- Nov 14, 2017
[As much as I've worked hard to make this an entertaining and informative account, it is a veritable mini‑novel, and as such I'm not depending on anyone reading it — Iʼll post separately on anything I really need answered.
This was mostly written closer to the event a couple months back, but I had to find time to edit it.]
OMG, Iʼm so happy to be able to title a post here “LR”!! Oft I was a cunthair from having to title it “FU”. But the cunthair wound up in my mouth instead!
I was ironically just about to give up on my city and move to Africa to improve abundance.
I hadnʼt been a virgin, but very close.
This experience was (i) almost surreal and (ii) validates many GC lines:
- Youʼre far more likely to sleep with a woman youʼve just met.
- Getting sex is actually not remarkably hard; women WANT sex.
- You can sleep with a girl without paying for jack shit.
- Complimenting to show sexual intent is valid. I was for a time against compliments, believing that itʼd only further entrench a womanʼs presumption of being higher value than you. And Iʼd had very bad experiences overdoing it in past.
- Keep meet-ups super-simple.
- Day game works. Even against Tinder.
- She may be more open than she seems.
- Lead women.
- No kissing until sex.
Thereʼs a lot I didnʼt do, yet it worked out. I didnʼt do any chase or sexual framing. Or wittingly push‑pull or fractionate. It really happened quite organically as a result of knowing what I wanted and not being (too) afraid to try to get it. The main ingredients were, quite simply, managing logistics, keeping her talking, and physical escalation. And then she did the rest!
Before I go on: a quick “thank you” to Chase, whose more nuanced approach and emphasis on moving even faster helped fill in “missing links” in my prior knowledge, and to Seppuku and others who have given useful feedback.
1. The Approach
The approach itself was unremarkable, and worked, so Iʼll tone down the usual minutiae.
I almost didnʼt go out. I was busy and left it ʼtil late. I only went out because Iʼm not allowed to jerk off unless I approach a new girl.
It was evening, in a big box store of the usual megamall. She was grocery shopping. Average-looking black girl. Dark enough. Not tall though, alas. She had her hair natural, which I greatly prefer to all that weave garbage.
Iʼd already chickened any number of times in the mall, and almost didnʼt approach this one, either. Partly because she was pretty young looking and with her mom — one of my approach boogeymen. And partly because glasses are a huge turn‑off (major genetic weakness), and she wore the ugliest of glasses.
I lucked out and found her split from the mom, so I went in. As usual, it took every scrap of courage I had; courage that did pay off!
Got beside her, tapped her with a bottle of hot sauce, and asked in jest about using it on a famous asinine politician. She responded well. Not over‑the‑top, but friendly.
I complimented her hair, and exchanged names. She was maybe a slight bit reserved, though friendly. I did my usual mini‑dive on her being a student, what she was studying and why. Busted her balls a little on her reason.
As usual, failed to reposition her — something Iʼd never done except on store workers. I didnʼt linger with her hand. Didnʼt use any sexy smile, or even smile much at all. In general, my body language was not consciously refined. I was a bit pedestrian and maybe on the harmless side; Iʼve certainly been craftier on other approaches.
The only things going for me were some pretty cool hybrid classy badboyish fashion, and the fact that hitting on a female stranger in a store wasnʼt new to me — separating me from 99.9% of guys.
And maybe one other thing. I was wearing one of my favorite approach shirts, but hadnʼt bothered to wash it. I rarely wear deodorant and almost never use fragrances. When I headed out, I noticed the shirt had a definite musk to it; not overpowering, but certainly there. As Iʼll sometimes do, I decided, fuck it, Iʼll wear it anyway as an experiment. Figured male pheromones just might actually attract a female, by some strange coincidence!
I expected some reluctance out of Latoya when I proposed a coffee meet‑up, but she just agreed.
While I was working my phone, she asked my age. I accepted her way‑low guess as close enough.
I sent her a “save my #” text that night. She responded cheerfully and asked how I was. I responded positively, while also using an excuse to evade unproductive chit‑chat.
2. Date-Setting Back-And-Forth
I wrote the next evening to try to schedule a meet for the next day or day after. She gave specifics of her busy college & work schedule, and said sheʼd keep me posted. While she seemed sincere, Iʼm very cautious of the “I will let you know” frame, and applied Seppukuʼs policy, by suggesting if she wasnʼt sure, we leave it for now and Iʼd let her know when next Iʼm free.
She threw me off here by saying sheʼd let me know if she was free, after Iʼd already said the same. In theory she was breaking my reframe, which kind of alarmed me. But, she likely had legitimately unpredictable free time, was transparent with her schedule, and wrote warmly. Not knowing what else to do, I just went silent.
A week later, I pinged her because Iʼd fallen ill, but didnʼt want to let her go cold.
This girl never initiated texting. Itʼs interesting, because we tend to look for things like that as signs of investment. Itʼs a little counter-intuitive that the girl thatʼs not initiating conversations, not touching me, not being flirty with me, nonetheless opens her legs for me!
Probably not advisable, but after the sick ping, I let over 3 silent weeks go by. I then finally sent her a “didnʼt forget you, just been busy” ping, which she reciprocated warmly. I dropped a meet suggestion, and she agreed.
The next day, a Friday, I suggest Sun. or Mon. are open. She indicates being overly busy but says sheʼll let me know if sheʼs free Monday. I didnʼt like the letting me know thing, so I decided to retract, but instead of doing it fully — which I had a feeling might go on forever, — I just said that if sheʼs not sure, I might end up making other plans, so Iʼd let her know if Iʼm still free then.
Come Sunday night I gave her slightly restricted availability for Mon., but she still said sheʼd let me know, at which point I tried to call her. She texted back instead, and I texted that if she wasnʼt sure, we should reschedule. She acknowledged and was still friendly, though she didnʼt know what day would work. I just said, no problem, weʼll figure it out another time.
Come Monday, I mention a couple days later in the week. She tentatively accepts one, but with “I will keep you posted”. I almost rejected this, being a bad frame, but her message was very warm and invited me to message her on that date, or to message her regardless. I wasnʼt sure what to make of this, so I decided simply to not show any cards, and went silent.
Come the tentative date, I texted her in the morning suggesting an afternoon time. She answered that she had a lot of homework and wasnʼt sure sheʼd be able to chill that day, but if she got a lot done by the proposed time, sheʼd let me know.
Iʼd let her bend shit this far, but I wasnʼt about to accept this frame of my waiting around the afternoon to see if sheʼd be free. So, I replied:
Well. That worked!me: No worries, weʼll do it another time
her: Oh, okay.
[2 hours later]
her: Hmm what time are u free until?
I wanted to jump but also didnʼt want to seem too available, so I said Iʼd finish up a few things and would be free 45 min. after my initial time.
She took nearly 2 h to reply, now shortly after I was free. She proposed a time 2 h later. I accepted and proposed a mall close to me. She objected on distance and proposed the megamall we first met in.
Trickier logistics. But itʼs been hit‑and‑miss trying to get girls to travel far, so I opted to chance the logistics. My place wasnʼt untenably far, but weʼd have to Uber or bus.
So I accepted, stipulating 45 min. after her chosen time.
3. The Date
Just as Iʼd approached her in an unwashed shirt, laundry apathy plus logic led me to do likewise on the date.
I got to the megamall with ample time.
There are plenty places to sit, but I try to sit beside a girl, preferably on a continuous surface. This limited my options, and the mall being quite busy, I mayʼve been forced to choose either (i) suboptimal seating, such as across from her, or (ii) a fancy bar & grill.
Luckily, after some circling, a good spot opened in the large food court. A little noisy but at least a booth. Used my coat and backpack to bias her to sit beside me.
I have a whoremongering, sugar daddy buddy who is always trying to convince me that we canʼt get beautiful girls unless by money — that even if we donʼt pay directly, weʼre paying in gifts and wining and dining. So, my goal is always, try to get laid without spending one damned penny on the girl. Iʼm proud to say I succeeded. Arriving early was the first step, letting me naturally get just my own drink.
She arrived just before 7 p.m., a little late. Another advantage to arriving early is that she had to look for me — a mild chase frame.
She didnʼt get a drink. Just sat beside me and we talked. I did not offer her one; offering stuff is a bad frame IMO. She eventually asked about my drink. I kind of suspect this was a mild shit test — prompting me to offer. I just told her what it was, pointed out where Iʼd gotten it and other stuff they sold, and changed subject. Test passed.
We talked. I deep dived. Her intended career path is boring and its motivation dull. Got into just enough about that and school to (i) skim for anything interesting, and (ii) get basic familiarity which I was able to later use playfully. I used the “if you could be anything in the world” gambit to try to break from her banal life. Her answer wasnʼt a role but a possession, and a fantastical one at that. But her intended use for it was mundane, which I busted her balls over.
Showed her pics from Caribbean events Iʼm involved in, some of which show preselection. She knew of them, but barely, and has never participated.
I tried to get her to do most of the talking and open up. To some extent she did, but we ended up on general topics a fair bit, as a lot of the stuff I thought to try deep diving on led to dead ends.
TBH, our conversing was pretty unremarkable. It was ok and she was not closed off, but at once she didnʼt seem enthusiastic or overtly open. Iʼve felt a good bit more connection on other dates.
Iʼve also had much more incidental touch on other dates. There was not a whole lot on this date itself. The girl had on heavy outerwear, which made it hard. And, she sat with maybe a foot or so between us, and had her legs angled somewhat away from me, preventing easy touch. I considered more physical contact but felt it would likely have come across as forced.
Another thing holding me back was that the glasses ruined her — enough so that I didnʼt care to be seen getting all touchy with her in my staple approach venue.
So there was not much incidental touch at all. From that, itʼs almost counter-intuitive that weʼd later end up having sex.
She asked me what I do, and when I mentioned creative projects, she seemed mildly interested. I didnʼt let on too much. I mentioned artwork at home. These planted a seed for later.
4. Pulling Home — Easily
We sat in the mall an hour, maybe less.
I made a rather impulsive decision. On some level, I think I realized that Iʼd accomplished as much as I was going to there. Which didnʼt seem like a lot, but at once I felt whatever modest peak there was, had already been reached.
I worked my phone and stated I had to be home soon for something time-sensitive. At once, possibly only a 10 min. task. It made it natural to invite her home to check out an earlier-mentioned project.
I didnʼt know what to expect; it was really just a shot in the dark.
She answered simply with, “okay.” She said this so offhandedly as to totally belie the magnitude of it.
Remembering Seppukuʼs warning that a girl would become frigid after a bus ride, I casually suggested Uber. She opined this as needless expense. Perfect! — the Uber would have likely violated my principle of paying for nothing. I kept the lead, however, by suggesting playing it by ear depending on the weather.
As we left, Latoya remarked about one of the food stands. I suspected it was a hint. I was hungry myself, but didnʼt want to (i) add steps — steps that could go wrong, — and (ii) take on the provider role — probably putting the breaks on quick intimacy. So I just brushed this off and changed subject.
I do think she was trying to get me to feed her, possibly as a shit test. On multiple occasions Iʼve had a girl buy, and in all such cases, the girl was direct and took the lead to get food, rather than just dropping little hints, waiting for me to obligate myself.
To an observer, we couldʼve been purely platonic. We didnʼt walk close, hold hands or anything. However, there was one tiny feature of her behaviour which I had sought but which at once bewildered me when I got it.
“Wait a minute, whatʼs going on?? Sheʼs following me, isnʼt she?! Sheʼs not going home. I donʼt understand.”
We took the light metro a few stops, then promptly caught a bus that took us nearly to my door in about 20 min.
We sat together on the bus; there was some luck in this. Very little incidental touch. We talked at times, and at other times she twiddled with her phone in mutual silence.
She queried my alcohol preferences, and made a recommendation.
It was completely lost on me that the girl was actually suggesting we get alcohol — until the bus passed a liquor store and she said, “Oh, if we wanted that we shouldʼve gotten off back at the liquor store there. Oh well.”
I started to get really encouraged by this, as Iʼm aware girls like to drink if they plan on fucking. Honestly, this was surreal.
5. Back Home
I listed various soft drinks or one spirit I could offer.
My aim is to take a woman totally sober, but at once Iʼm willing to bend ideals a little for those first vital data points.
She went for a mixed drink, and offered to help. She gave herself an extra shot or two and asked if I wanted the same while holding it over my drink. After brief hesitation I gave in to the peer pressure — which she actually called as such!
She thankfully took off the hideous glasses. Sheʼs decent looking without them. With, and this would probably not be a LR.
By a number of stereotypical metrics, this girl could be a die‑hard SJW, but was actually pretty chill and wasnʼt preachy or judgemental.
We sat talking for hours on all manners of stuff. At my prompting, she shared a lot about herself. I shared too, but probably only around 20%. It seems 80% / 20% is a good sweet spot.
At some point she mentioned having no New Years plans. I felt making holiday plans with her would set a relationship vibe, so I shifted to another subject.
She was slightly shy to let on being bisexual, but I didnʼt mind. She described both a male and female LTR, especially the latter being quite dysfunctional. She related having learnt not to make a relationship partner more important than yourself. She shared a story of a girl a little obsessed with her.
She also mentioned in passing a current male FwB.
I jumped on the bisexual thing, asking the difference between male and female lovers. She likes female lovers because thereʼs more to do to them (lick them down, eat them out, etc.), while she likes male lovers because theyʼre more aggressive and take what they want. (A good reminder!) She said girls are more gentle and donʼt like stuff she likes, like choking.
I had to ask, does she like choking, or being choked? Both. Not wanting to appear boring, I checked the fact that I canʼt imagine how in fuckʼs name I could drive myself to choke a girl.
We bonded a bit trying to work out the lyrics of a song in a language weʼd both studied which I knew better but not fluently. The song got pretty sexual, and something was telling me to use this, but I didnʼt.
I playfully teased her over various quirks.
6. Getting Cozy
Escalation has been a huge sticking point for me. Iʼd be utterly terrified to do it, giving up at the slightest hint of resistance. The farthest Iʼd ever gone before was a clunky boob grab that resulted in a verbal objection that imploded my intentions. With Latoya, I was still apprehensive internally, but worked hard to act confident.
Escalation was initially frustrated by her positioning. Her leg was folded towards me, forcing a couple feet between us.
Initially I halfways thought she intended this to stop me. Typical thinking for me, which would later be proven dysfunctionally pessimistic!
I really didnʼt want a 3rd girl in 2018 to leave my home without getting dick. So I started getting more brave. I moved over closer to her by just lifting her leg and getting under it. She just put her leg across my lap. This made it natural and tempting to caress her thigh, which I did, through her jeans, at first just a little, then more.
I made a remark about her jeans being tight, as I plucked them. I was trying to suggest she take them off. Iʼm finding that dropping hints to a girl to take off clothes, generally doesnʼt work. She just said they were ok, and that theyʼd be tighter if they were tights. Funny, later in the evening she made a remark about them being tight.
Once the leg was on my lap, Latoya said it was numb. So I massaged it a little.
At times the girlʼs foot or leg was near my crotch, and Iʼd get a chubby she just might have felt. Oh, the irony! I didnʼt mind; once upon a time I might have, but thatʼs a poor mentality.
Iʼm getting better at finding little excuses to touch a girl. I briefly joined her in playing with her hair, and briefly caressed the hair just above the back of her neck. When she compulsively made a funny sound, I ran my finger along her lips as I commented on it. I got her to show me tats, and touched them. I touched a spot on her face that had a scar as I asked about it.
I tried fogʼs palm writing idea. Her hand and arm moved with me by feather-light force; totally relaxed and compliant. After the fact, I appreciate that we couldʼve had sex a lot sooner.
Alas, as much as palm writing is rich in sexual framing potential, I was afraid of being suggestive, plus couldnʼt think cleverly on the spot.
Latoya did something unexpected. My hand resting on her outstretched thigh, she gently touched part of my fingers with hers. That was profound! She didnʼt touch me much, though. That was the only time until becoming overtly sexual. I didnʼt try to get her to either, though perhaps I shouldʼve.
I really wanted at her tits. Seeing them had been my learning goal for the date.
I started by putting my hand round her arm beside her breast. At natural points in talk, Iʼd then push her arm medially, causing part of my hand to press the side of her breast. She was ok with that, which encouraged me to eventually touch her tit more directly. At one or two points as I bantered, I briefly grabbed and squeezed it with a smile, similarly to how you might squeeze a friendʼs shoulder to say “Iʼm just fuckinʼ with ya.” She didnʼt seem to mind at all.
She wore a sweater atop a thin shirt. Touching her tits through the sweater wasnʼt as fun. So I tugged its bottom edge up a bit, saying, “you must be hot in this.”
She neutrally said she was fine and put the bottom edge, now a few inches up, back down. I took this as ASD, though it later occurred to me she may have been a bit shy of her gut as itʼs a little bit flabby.
The sweater had to be pulled off over her head, which I was afraid I couldnʼt do smoothly enough to not trigger overt resistance. Thus far her only resistance had been very subtle, and I wanted to keep it that way.
7. Escalating Half-Ways
I still really wanted at her tits. I knew the only way Iʼd ever get anywhere with women was to be less afraid to persist. And her permissiveness emboldened me. So I got creative. We were talking all the while — which is not as hard as it sounds.
I put my arm behind her and started caressing her shoulder. Then I moved a little over towards her neck, where I could slip my hand under her sweater. No resistance. I caressed her chest under her clothes, first just below the collarbone and then gradually working my way down as I started to feel the softness of her breast. Still no resistance. As I got my hand well on her right tit, I felt the start of her bra. I worked my fingers under the bra a little. Still no resistance!
Itʼs hard to describe what was going through my mind at this point. But itʼs a sense, and a very unfamiliar one, that I kept encountering over the next hours.
“What? Sheʼs not resisting, I donʼt understand!”
It was as though I had been living my whole life inside of some kind of optical illusion.
Then two things happened.
One, physics finally got in the way. Iʼd gotten far enough under the bra to feel the girlʼs nipple, but the displacement started taxing the braʼs elasticity.
Two, smartphone still in hands, she raised her forearms a few inches, mildly blocking my passage downwards. Ok, a little resistance. But neither of us reacted overtly. I just moved back to a higher point on her tit.
She put her hand between mine and her breast. I just left my hand on hers for a bit, and caressed her hand a little. Then I removed my hand and went back to just talking and maybe caressing the thigh on my lap.
A bit later, I put my arm round her and eventually slipped that hand under her sweater on the opposite side. I proceeded down her other tit similarly, albeit a little more quickly and confidently. But jamming my fingers under the bra having proven impractical, I just caressed over it. She largely allowed me to cup much of her breast.
When the girl allowed my sexual touch, this gave me courage to try more. In turn, my apparent sexual confidence increased her attraction to me, making her gradually even more permissive. This positive feedback loop ultimately led to us having sex. I have many times in past experienced a similar feedback loop, but one which spiralled out of control in the opposite direction — often to the point of not even getting a phone number.
I started exploring over the bra to see if I could feel the girlʼs nipple through it. The bra was pretty stiff so I wasnʼt sure how useful this was. She responded with another forearm lift, so I backed off just a tad. I left my hand cupped on her breast for a number of minutes, and she was fine with it.
However, one huge problem I had was, I felt I had to continue conversing. I was ok escalating while we were still conversing, but there was a threshold I found it impossible to bring myself across, where it would be no talk and just groping. This nearly cost me the lay.
I still donʼt know how to make this transition. I just took a very wide and precarious detour around it, and itʼs sheer luck that I didnʼt run out of gas and die in the desert.
Though she was fine with me stroking her inner thigh even near her crotch, I couldnʼt bring myself to either touch her pussy through, or try to undo, the jeans.
I think itʼll be easier for me next time, because now Iʼve seen that itʼs not unthinkable that a strange girl Iʼve just brought home might actually want to have sex with me!
Another thing I didnʼt do was kiss. This was intentional. My current policy is, “when in doubt, remember that kissing is not the goal.” It just defuses tension and shows your cards. Now, some members will undoubtedly go off on me, that kissing is vital. To this I point out, getting this girl naked and legs open occurred without my ever having gone for one! What I donʼt have data to say yet, is whether this can be pulled off reliably. So, for me, at just what point itʼs advisable to initiate kissing is still somewhat of an open question, though I can say confidently that itʼs pretty late along, if at all.
On this occasion, I had an added incentive not to: she had bad breath!
Another huge problem:
If she had to go more than 12 hours without her smartphone, sheʼd go into convulsions.
Her dependence made it all the harder to escalate past a certain point.
Eventually, part of me ideated that I ought to gently take the phone away from her and put it down on the table. What a sexy‑guy-in‑that‑movie type move! I knew if I did that, thatʼs the point Iʼd have to push all my chips in. Quite frankly, I was too scared.
So we just kept chillinʼ, and before long it was 1:15 a.m. The girl then opened up Uber for a 2 a.m. trip.
I knew if I let her go home, I would probably lose yet another potential lover.
I didnʼt want that. So, I casually suggested she could sleep here.
She just as casually replied, “okay.” And dismissed the idea of leaving.
Just like that.
I was silently taken aback by how easy that was!
8. Sexless Sleepover
I made a judgement call to not push for sex until morning. The reason is, sheʼs a woman, (not that Iʼm sure sheʼs actually weaker,) alone in a strange manʼs home, very late with bad weather and reduced transit. I didnʼt want to scare or truly pressure her. And, going for her when she was very tired felt sleazy.
Iʼm not 100% sure this was the best call. It did leave more to chance.
We chatted for several hours more.
I kept touch at a flirty friendly level; not overtly sexual. She put her head in my shoulder at points.
At one point the girl was posing for her artificial appendage, and having it add silly ears and noses, and glasses. She then leaned in a little and got me into the preview. I tolerated this, though not enthusiastically. She gave me silly ears and nose, too.
Would taking pics together set a relationship‑ey vibe? Iʼm always extremely cautious to not set relationship frames, to the point I almost wonder if Iʼm paranoid. Surely some things are ok for friends with benefits! LOL
Having a supply of snacks was good. It took the edge off without causing a major distraction.
Past 4 a.m., Latoya asked to see the project Iʼd lured her home with. Itʼs noteworthy that sheʼd already been in my home over seven hours before even bringing it up!
I remarked on how tired she was. She acknowledged but still wanted to see it. Okay. I showed her briefly. She liked it. Didnʼt see much, though, before she knocked out. I also didnʼt want morning proper to come with her awake!
Itʼs worth noting that my desktop wallpaper was an African model, I had artwork of a couple other black girls, and pics Iʼd earlier shown Latoya from Caribbean events were with black girls. So an implied preference for black women wasnʼt a liability even with a suspected SJW.
After partial disrobing, she first lay across the bed to examine and comment on a unique item.
Iʼm glad, because I was a little uneasy over where to sleep. Separately would be totally useless. But at once I was scared that trying to sleep beside her might seem invasive. I basically just met this woman!
Her casually lying across the bed gave me a chance to lie beside and talk with her. This I felt helped establish our being in bed together.
Before she slept, I probed for obligations the next day. Just homework. Ok, good. Otherwise, Iʼdʼve had to think carefully about when to go for sex.
“Getting lucky” played a big part!
I lied with over a foot between us. Not sure that was the best approach, but again, I wanted to give her space until morning. She was out cold anyway.
Predictably, I got no sleep.
This gave me time to reflect.
I hope this doesnʼt sound too perverse, but part of my motivation to try really hard to have sex with Latoya when she woke, was the thought that thereʼs prolly some wussbag fool at her college who has been devoutly in love with her for the past 2 years, who she friendzoned from day 1, and whose world would be shattered if he knew she was riding my dick on our first meeting. Because I was that fool more than once.
Another motivation was finally being able to post a LR!
On a softer note, I couldnʼt help but just look at the girl in the scarce light as she faintly snored. And it thus happened yet again. Even this one, unremarkable as far as black girls go, still had a certain beauty to her facial features that you just donʼt see in any other kind. Looking at the beautiful facial structure, skin tone and hair texture on this black woman made me all the more certain that I refuse any other kind.
Latoya woke after noon.
Of course, what was the first thing she went for on regaining consciousness?
Very good! Well, not for me. It was last evening in repeat. Just without the deep diving.
I so wanted to escalate. I knew if I let her out of the bed without fucking her, she would probably fade away and become another statistic in my uninspiring record.
Before I could fret too long, she resumed sleeping posture. I dumbly asked if she wanted to sleep more. She answered, “yeah, a little bit.” She was on her side with her back to me. I was very unsure if she really wanted to sleep, or was giving me a window to fuck her. I kind of thought sheʼd lie facing me if so. We lay there for a number of minutes with my brain horribly pained by this question.
I eventually decided that my threshold would be her eyes being open. Initially they were not, but some minutes later, they were.
Unfortunately, that was accompanied by her interfacing with that God damned electronic soother of hers.
The prior 17 hours being a microcosm of internalization that I must be more aggressive if I ever want pussy, this time I actually did try to take the thing away. She just protectively put the precious down at her chest instead.
One of the many things I love about black women is how thereʼs often this really fluid curve in the median plane of their face that has no tight knot points right from the top of their forehead almost to the tip of their nose. Still lying behind her, I got my arm superior to her face, and then traced down that curve with one of my fingers and told her I loved this curve of her face. Itʼs most probably the God damned strangest compliment sheʼs ever gotten, but she just said, “thank you”.
I caressed her shoulder. Went to caress her breast, but she responded by pulling her arms in, making it hard. Somehow I had balls that day, and instead of just giving up entirely, I just changed modes. I put my leg over her hip and used my bare lower leg to rub her bare legs. She didnʼt resist that. Then with my hand I started feeling her ass. I ran that hand under her bum to briefly touch around her perineum.
As Iʼd been doing this she was checking messages, and soon sat up and told me that sheʼd been offered a shift for 4 p.m. and was thinking of taking it. I probed logistics. Weʼd have had an hour or two at best. While maybe enough time for a boss, my gut feeling was that if she took the shift, we wouldnʼt have sex. And I was keenly aware of the Sexy Son Hypothesis as well as Seppukuʼs usual advice in these situations: act like if you donʼt have sex right now, youʼre never going to see her again.
And so I tried to talk her out of work. Because I couldnʼt just remain this harmless pushover nice guy my whole life.
The girl sat contemplating, devoid of any enthusiasm.
“Iʼm tired,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, you didnʼt get to sleep until like 5 or 6 in the morning…”
“Tired of life.”
This was a little more than I had bargained for!
She started dumping how sheʼs tired of school, tired of her momʼs shit, that she hates her mom. Sheʼs going to move out as soon as the semesterʼs over.
Here the girl was, sitting legs crossed on my bed, facing away, glumly staring off into space.
I reminded her of a saying she uses to find strength.
I got closer, from behind and to the side, and started running my hands up and down her arms. In caressing her at this point I was honestly not trying to seduce her. I was just trying to comfort her.
I frankly didnʼt know what to do. I was facing a crisis of morality. I had brought her home to seduce her, but at this point I felt like it would make me a real asshole. Not the likeable asshole I strive to be.
I was almost going to throw in the towel when it happened. I was wishing I could freeze reality and post a question to GC, when she did something that kind of bewildered me! She turned to look at me and went straight for my lips!
This was something that only happened to other people, in movies.
Thankfully, something in my brain clicked and we started kissing nonstop and moments later I was pulling out one of her breasts.
I finally appreciate why one writer called it “mutual seduction”.
More experienced, I may have questioned whether sex was a good idea. Because I suspected emotional baggage, and really had no idea if she wants something I donʼt feel to give her and how it could affect her.
However, I was not at a point in my life where I could afford to turn down an obviously willing sex partner. My never having truly won one had been a debilitating hole in my mental model — like trying to tell yourself you can fly, when youʼve only crashed every airplane youʼve ever piloted.
10. My Dick Canʼt Believe It
Thankfully, her breath was ok now.
Yet, there was that strange someone-elseʼs-mouth taste. Sheʼs only the 3rd girl Iʼve ever french kissed; same weirdness each time. Now I also noticed how screwball faces look so close up; mostly closed my eyes to spare my brain the enigma. I imagine kissing an alien would be relatively similar.
She did something novel: sheʼd close her mouth a bit so her teeth would press our tongues.
Iʼd tried to lick a nipple, but the bra decided to swallow it back up.
Bra closures are dead-simple and remarkably standardized. However, for all the time I spend in womensʼ clothing stores, I didnʼt know this yet!
“Youʼll have to do it.”
She happily obliged. But strangely, she pulled the bra out from under the crop top with the top still on. So I pulled down the shoulder strap, but now it was around her arm. Soon enough, she pulled her arm out and pulled off the crop top.
Her erect nipples on dark chocolate areolas on butter‑smooth chocolate breasts were such a beautiful sight!
We kissed a bit and then I moved down to her right tit and took her nipple in my mouth, dancing my tongue on it.
The girl grabs at my crotch, and Iʼm just… I could barely comprehend it. Intellectually I knew all this was very doable, by the very means by which Iʼd done it. But on some core level, I had no concept that *I* could actually make a girl act like this.
Well, my dick did not believe any of this. At all.
I tell it excitedly, “look what I have brought you!”
“Leave me alone,” it muttered lazily, “Iʼm trying to have a nap! You can show me pictures of Nyakim tomorrow.”
“This is not pictures, you fool!”, I retort impatiently as I grab for lube in a desperate bid to rub some sense into it.
I fumble with the bottle pump nervously, half-expecting to wake up at any moment.
Iʼm rubbing and it does nothing. How did I know this would happen?
The girl tries to rub her ass on by crotch, and she does it surprisingly hard!
Maybe I shouldnʼt have interfered. Perhaps that much juicy ass force wouldʼve convinced the cretin that this was the real thing.
However, Iʼd had my hand on my dick, and also wasnʼt happy having a girl exposed to it limp. So it was, her butt mashed on my hand around my dick. This wasnʼt particularly effective in that particular instance.
Itʼs weird. Itʼs not like it doesnʼt work. Sometimes when I wake, especially in times of sexual optimism, I could break a brick over it. It can get that hard just thinking intently about knocking up a beautiful tall, dark Nilotic honey like the models Nyakim or Yaya. Fuck, it ironically has gotten hard just recounting this lay! Itʼs oft a little moody, but solo, I can always coax it with a little patience.
Though Iʼd never had a blowjob before, I suspected itʼd get me hard. But especially as a white guy I didnʼt want to just ask a black girl to suck my dick. Society puts a degrading spin on dick sucking, and historically white men often maliciously degraded black women. Partly to balance that, I went down on her first.
The panties came off by themselves. This whole thing was not at all a case of me having to overcome resistance at every turn; it was more like, she fully wanted for us to have sex. From the moment she kissed me, she was 100% compliant. It was like a switch had been flipped in her head.
11. Eating Pussy
I had her lay back.
I wish Iʼd have taken time teasing her body. Itʼs not like there wasnʼt time. Itʼs just, the experience was so alien and I was so focused on having to perform. Instead I just the once ran my mouth down her chest and abdomen and then went to town on her vulva.
She had a strong scent about her nethers. I wouldnʼt say bad, but not like roses, either.
Another thing I noted, though too uptight to figure it out, was that I didnʼt see the glans of her clitoris at all. Only the prepuce. Iʼd thought it came out under arousal. She was definitely aroused. Well, apparently it doesnʼt come out in all women. I wonder if I shouldʼve adjusted strategy accordingly — tried to uncover it, maybe? Unless I somehow didnʼt notice the glans, I only licked and pressed on her prepuce. That may work or not, depending on the woman.
I wish I hadʼve taken more time to explore — Iʼm sure sheʼd have let me. But Iʼm so not used to having a living, breathing, human being expose her genitals to me. Iʼm sure Iʼll be much better once the utter shock of it diminishes and I can relax more.
What I did was, I put my right middle digit up her vagina, ventral face pointing anteriorly, and started rhythmically pressing my whole fist onto her vulva, while on each stroke I curled up my finger to put pressure on the anterior surface of the vagina, proximally to the pubis, further curling the finger to traverse the anterior surface distally (at which point the pubis was noted distinctly). I figured the latter curling might stimulate the debated Gräfenberg spot if present, while the rhythmic pressure on the rest of the vulva could help stimulate the crura of the clitoris and the posterior extent of the labia minora, while I used my tongue on the prepuce and to a much lesser degree the most anterior extent of the labia minora.
I used my free left hand to pal… er, feel up her mam… er, tits. lol
She mostly just laid back, but there was one point where she gently stroked my head. That was almost surreal.
I wasnʼt particularly gentle, having watched a porn actress (who seemed surprisingly credible) explain and demonstrate in some detail on another girl. One thing that stood out for me was her pointing out pussyʼs flexibility and robustness and cautioning against treating it like a delicate flower.
That seemed to go over mostly fine. The only hitch was, initially, Latoya said the fingers hurt a little bit — I hadnʼt given much thought to my other fingers! She was fine once I tucked them in, only knuckles pressing on her vulva, not fingernails.
Thereʼs much Iʼve read that in the moment I forgot, being a little too highly strung over the whole affair.
At some point I got a hair in my mouth! Ran to the nearby bathroom to spit it out. I know, I know, donʼt break the flow. Mental note: next time have something handy to spit in!
Once every few seconds, the girl let out a gentle, breathy moan. She wasnʼt loud.
I wonder if I got her off. Only she really knows. I didnʼt ask; Iʼve read this conveys a lack of confidence.
If I believed porn in general, Iʼd say, absolutely not. But Iʼm not that gullible. So Iʼve read, itʼs more likely for a woman to experience a real orgasm silently. What gets me, is that I wouldʼve figured thereʼd still be some kind of escalation in her vocalization. I didnʼt notice any.
The only possible indication of climax was a couple points, plausibly timed, at which she somewhat abruptly thrust up her otherwise immobile pelvis, consistent with clenching her legs and abs. Come to think of it, thatʼs something Iʼll do on approaching orgasm — and I donʼt necessarily make any noise, either.
The biggest doubt she actually got off, though, is that most women get rhythmic contractions of the PC muscle during orgasm, and I didnʼt notice any on my finger.
So I studied various anatomical views of the pelvic floor muscles in females. From that, I had to question how much force an object as thin and shallow as a finger would get from the PC muscle, particularly where it was being curled towards the pubic symphysis, drawing the anterior vagina away from the posterior junction of the PC muscle. Lateral pressure from the anterior extent would be more likely on a larger, deeper object. If anything, Iʼd think a finger might see more force from the bulbospongiosus muscle, which is more distal than the PC muscle. Orgasm typically contracts that too, but even it looks to be a little far laterally from the vagina to be able to squeeze a finger with any noticeable force.
OTOH, itʼs widely claimed at least in lay sources that orgasmic contractions can be felt on an inserted finger. Iʼm confused. Then again, itʼs also claimed that while most do, not all women get them.
For me, I wonʼt say it was the most enjoyable activity in the world. Not remarkably unpleasant, but between smell, taste, the awkward placement of my body, and having to apply significant pressure from appendages suited to fine manipulation, there were other things Iʼd rather have been doing with her. I think I couldʼve enjoyed it more had I approched it as simply exploring her genitalia as opposed to a mechanical goal‑oriented act.
12. Getting Head
Eventually my finger, hand, and tongue became a little tired. She seemed to be enjoying, but wasnʼt giving feedback towards climax. Had she really wanted, Iʼd have gone on, but there wasnʼt enough communication.
I also was more keen to get her off from coitus, but I needed co‑operation from my dumb dong.
I stopped and asked if she was good to trade places. She just said, “sure”, sat up, and had me lie down. I donʼt know if she was doing this out of satiation or compliance.
Briefly, I was uptight, which didnʼt help. My insolent member was still floppy. Part of me was sure the girl would get bored and leave, but she did her best.
I wasnʼt going to have this fucked, so I just got comfortable, relaxed my body, and tried to forget its pathetic behaviour and enjoy the girlʼs efforts.
Actually, I did. First blowjob. (Oh, what Iʼd give to rewrite my sex life from age 12!) Felt nice. A girl having chosen to do this made it still better.
The girl didnʼt get fancy, but it was still nice.
Initially, I put her hand on my balls to encourage her to play. She did for a bit, but soon forgot. Maybe I wasnʼt the only one a little nervous.
Once I relaxed and just tried to enjoy, I did get hard. Not brick-hard, but enough.
I had to open my eyes to see my dick in a young womanʼs mouth, girl hands wrapped around it. And not ones that were extracting money. (My buddy has tried hard to indoctrinate me that weʼre too old and ugly to get beautiful women any other way.) Chocolate tits hanging in the background. Quietly and subtly overwhelmed with disbelief and relief. Relief that I am no longer forced to see myself as a loser whoʼse never even legitimately had a girl on his dick.
I was also relieved the girl saw my junk hard. Because by erect length, itʼs D.R. Congoʼs average, but itʼs one of those high‑efficiency-storage models, making me a bit terrified of having a black girl see it limp. (Iʼm sure that doesnʼt help the performance anxiety!)
Briefly I caressed around the girlʼs knee.
I have pretty good control, so I couldʼve let her at it indefinitely. Or gone for the nut. But neither was my goal. I wanted to fuck her!!
13. One Last Try
Dick now hard, I decide itʼs finally time.
However, this wasnʼt one of those girls so fly Iʼd be ok with knocking up. So, time for the condom.
If I could go back, Iʼd have donned it myself.
But my right hand was covered in Latoya goo, and I was afraid Iʼd be liable to get some on the inside. Drying my hands looked tough, much less sanitizing them, and Latoya ironically had much less of her guts on her hands than I did, so it seemed logical for her to do it.
Now having had time to digest the debacle, I was rather paranoid. (And inconsistent. I had no issue with going down on her — a more credible risk.) Unlikely she has HIV, and even so, extremely unlikely to catch it like that. The lesser evils would be more likely, but still not likely. And basically all STIs, even HIV, are treatable. Public health campaigns and pop culture alike are designed to scare the bejesus out of us.
Latoya was almost surprisingly unfamiliar with how to put on condoms. (Is this normal?) I wound up helping; so much for avoiding the goo!
Next time, Iʼll make sure thereʼs a towel handy, give my hands a quick wipe, making the tiny risk even tinier, and just chalk the residual up to living life.
In our unsexy condom fumbling, my erection floundered a bit. I figured getting atop her, being a dominant position, might fix that. Instead, in the two seconds it took to mount her, my boner was largely gone.
Tried to put it in anyway. Didnʼt get too far.
I grinded on top of her as though we were doing it. Iʼd hoped the combination of mental stimulation plus my dick rubbing on her pussy, would do the trick.
I tried the coital alignment thing. I got my arms under hers and my forearms superior to her shoulders. It had a both dominant and intimate feel. Would certainly love to try with a more co‑operative dick!
We kissed a bit.
But all this grinding without having a boner to put in made me feel, to be honest, kind of silly.
In a cruel irony, distress over not having an erection was making it much tougher to get one.
It was dreadfully obvious this wasnʼt going to work, so I proposed the only thing I thought would.
“It prefers the mouth.” Strange wording — I felt awkward asking.
“New lover anxiety,” I explained.
I remarked that the condom probably wouldnʼt taste good. She agreed, so I ripped it off.
I readied another and asked how quickly she could put it on.
She replied, “10 seconds?”
Ok. I showed her the correct side. My head hurts writing this.
So I lie back down and she tries to attend to my cowardly cock, but sheʼs half‑assed about it this time. Really canʼt blame her. Mostly just used her hands, which wasnʼt effective. Though she tried not to show it, I felt her disappointment.
Perhaps I shouldʼve told her to use her mouth more, as it wouldʼve worked better. But I didnʼt have the heart to. It felt degrading towards her.
I think we were both losing our will to go on, and soon I said, “Letʼs just rest for a bit.” This was some 40 min. after she went for the kiss.
It was a really painful moment.
14. What Went Wrong
The E.D. was a perfect storm, possible factors including a failure to unconsciously associate women with sexual release, my being a genital mutilation (MGM) victim, hormonal deficiency, and situational factors including bad timing and unwillingness to take this particular girl raw.
This was a rather huge and deeply troubling part of the experience, demanding extensive research and analysis, which Iʼve covered separately:
Brainwashing, Circumcision, Low‑T, and Other Causes of E.D.
We leaned up in bed, a couple feet between us.
I now regret that I didnʼt here fondle or even touch Latoya. Maybe it wouldʼve ended much differently. Nothing to lose in trying. But in that moment, I felt defeated. I felt like there was no point because she wouldnʼt still want me. Being too focused on having to perform the act itself undoubtedly made things worse.
She tried not to show it, but Iʼm sure the girl mustʼve been disappointed.
So badly letting down a lover was painful. It strikes against your value. Especially for seducers, our main value to women being sexual.
What made it even worse is its not being readily under my control. If you donʼt lick the right place or tease the right way, thatʼs something 100% actionable; you can learn to be better at these things. But when a basic bodily function fails, you feel powerless. And when that failure is of a mark of manhood and a subject of derision, itʼs worse still.
Immediately conscious this may have hurt the girlʼs feelings, I told her it wasnʼt her fault. (Iʼll admit there are other girls Iʼve met — let alone ones I havenʼt, — who wouldʼve turned me on a lot more easily than her. But she certainly wasnʼt unattractive to me.)
I told her I had my genitals mutilated as a child, how they cut off the foreskin and it cuts a lot of the sensation.
Not wanting to seem totally impotent, I added that sometimes it works fine, other times, not so much.
“You cut it?”, she queried.
“Oh, I thought you cut it yourself.”
“Nooo Nooo Nooo Nooo Nooo”, I stressed. “They did it when I was a baby!”
She just said, “Oh”, comprehendingly.
I told her, “Whatever you do, donʼt have your son circumcised.”
She muttered something, but I didnʼt feel to drag on this depressing subject by asking her to repeat.
After a few maybe silent minutes, she stoically declared, “I should get going.”
This wouldʼve been fine had I tore up the pussy good. But leaving it like this really hurt. But, whatever happened was okay; she had given herself to me. That was more of an accomplishment than Iʼd honestly been expecting. So if she left, she left.
Before long, we dressed.
I asked if she wanted cereal and fruit, and she accepted.
She was in good spirits again. She didnʼt have that glumness sheʼd had in the moments before she seduced me.
16. Ambiguous Relations
Latoya ended up over into evening, doing homework. I helped, but beginners heed, this isnʼt something Iʼd have done before getting her pussy juice on my sheets!
That was peppered with random chat. I didnʼt get sexual again — my dick had so deeply betrayed me that I wasnʼt willing to trust it again just yet.
She wanted me to, only if I wanted, come with her to a nearby store. I decided not to, lest I become the “shopping buddy”. However, now enters truly unfamiliar territory; Iʼve a pretty good concept of the frames needed to sleep with a girl in the first place, but Iʼm not as sure of what does and doesnʼt change when youʼre already fucking. For instance, is the “shopping guy” thing still a problem?
I decided it was time to get rid of her for the day (LOL — it is a major accomplishment when you are trying to get rid of girls — LMAO), and I needed to go out, anyway. So we got ready, and went outside together.
She had to take a bus to the same corner, and another from there. She thought Iʼd bus also, but I told her thereʼs no way Iʼm taking a bus 6 blocks unless itʼs a hurricane. Iʼm walking. LOL. I suggested she could either take the first bus or walk to the corner with me, but that if she came with me sheʼd have to walk fast. I thought sheʼd probably take the bus but she decided to walk.
Well, she walked fast as she could but I still had to go a little easy on her!
As we got to the corner I was a bit concerned that how we parted might be material to the type of relationship being established. Alas, I either havenʼt seen or didnʼt remember any guidance on this, so I just let the chips fall where they may.
Her bus was right there. A relief, because it meant a quick parting.
Iʼd been a little ahead of her, her barely having kept up, so I turned around to face her. Initially we just exchanged niceties about enjoying our time. Then she went for a hug.
Thatʼs when she did something Iʼd been wondering if sheʼd try or not. She went for a kiss on the lips.
Thankfully, the weather had made her remove the hideous glasses. Because with them, sheʼd have been a preselection liability. And worse, in the middle of a small area near to me with elevated frequency of black women.
That was a fucking close call. I need a plan for when a negative preselection girl goes for a PDA.
Another problem. Iʼm not sure what this girl wanted, and didnʼt want to lead her on. I doubt Iʼll ever be monogamous to any woman, much less this one. I did enjoy her company, and need sexual experience, so I wanted her to be a FwB. I have a buddy who deals with FwBs and FBs as his primary mating strategy, so I have a concept of the frames required, but I havenʼt followed him around with a magnifying glass, so I donʼt know all the practical details.
In particular, what do you do about the girl going for PDAs? Do you let her? Or is that too relationship‑ey?
When she went for it, I kissed her, mostly because I had no fucking idea what else to do.
Thankfully, I had the light, so was able to get away instead of having to stand while her bus passed me, giving me the added issue of whether to wave to her or wave back if she did, or look in some other direction because that waving shit is too relationship‑ey, or what. LOL… Iʼm almost clueless how to deal with anything after sex!
Iʼve never had a friend with benefits before. Itʼs only ever been (i) my being a beta male orbiter, (ii) her not being my type, or (iii) far away pen pals. I almost feel like sex took me from being a fish out of water to being a fish in oil!!
I wondered if sheʼd try to lock me down. But sheʼd mentioned another FwB, so itʼs not like she doesnʼt do casual sex. Her Tinder she showed me said sheʼs looking for a relationship, but Iʼm guessing most girls put that, as ASD. (Well, I didnʼt meet her on Tinder, God damn it!!!!) Perhaps the biggest concern was that bit immediately before she turned things sexual — the moping about being tired of life, etc… was she looking to me to be a new, shining chapter in her life?
Fuck, I did start to feel like a fish in oil, just thinking about it!
Iʼm glad, though, that we spent the rest of the day together. Iʼdʼve hated to leave things on the low note of my sexual failure.
17. Aftermath To The Aftermath
Reward for kissing a college student: a cold!
Bigger aftermath was divulged starting from the first block quote here. In brief: Morning after, I ping her and she responds positively. We stay silent most of a week and then I ping her again just to keep from going cold, and then she claims to now be in a relationship but we can be friends. I try the discreet lover frame, and she gets highly defensive about her not cheating and our being friends only.
I just left her outburst unanswered, at a loss for any useful reply.
Weʼve had 3 short exchanges since, pleasant but not productive.
I could just be friends with her, but Iʼm not sure platonic female friends are good for my mind right now. Iʼve spent a lifetime being platonic with women. Itʼs not like I need more practice! Then again, many guys — Iʼd venture the large majority — canʼt look at any one female friend and think back to her sucking his dick!
Pivot maybe, but the glasses harm her preselection value.
Her being bi could be fun — we could hunt for girls together! LMAO. I almost wonder if I should propose that!!
But as a lover, most likely, Iʼve lost her. I only wish some old surgeon back in my birthplace could know he had a hand in that.
This was a very complex experience for me. Very positive yet very negative. It opened a new horizon. But it at once also left me with a troubling and pissy problem that has eroded the very confidence getting laid ought to have boosted, and promises to make learning even more tricky.
Iʼd almost call the lay a huge learning experience, except much of it I already knew and believed intellectually. But itʼs so contrary to all the conditioning Iʼve received since birth, that actually seeing it first‑hand was a quantum leap from reasoning it.
On some level, my brain believed it in general, yet somehow expected me to be that one fucked up flower that it wonʼt work for. Having any girl — let alone one I just met — sucking my dick, was just too far outside the realm of my personal experience to believe myself capable of it.
Iʼm proud of myself for getting a cute black girl naked within 35 approaches. And not by on‑line. Or spending one penny on her.
Iʼm not so happy that those 35 approaches took most of a year!!!
Approaching was something I had to do without any first-hand proof that there was any possible reward in doing so. And especially at my age, being essentially a virgin made part of me feel like a loser. From this I reasoned that approaching ought to have become much easier mentally. Because now, I can look at a cute black girl and think, no cheats, “Iʼve had one of you suck my dick. Iʼve had yallʼs cunthair in my mouth.”
Unfortunately, Iʼve since found that women still intimidate me. Iʼve done a few day‑long approach missions, and not much has changed. In 8 hours of wandering a fairly busy megamall, I might come out with 1 or 2 or at best 3 approaches. And chicken out on a dozen or more half-decent opportunities. Obviously one botched lay wasnʼt enough to subvert numerically-induced scarcity. So, Iʼm still planning to move to Africa, where it wonʼt take me a damn year to approach 35 girls.
And next time I get a girlʼs clothes off, I should just enjoy the moment instead of worrying about performing. That could make erection easier in spite of MGM.
Although Latoya and I got robbed, it was still a good experience. I enjoyed bonding with her. I enjoyed playing with her tits. I briefly enjoyed getting head, though alas I was only utilitarian with it. And it was pretty validating, and to be honest, relieving, to have a cute young black woman completely naked on my bed and willing to do anything, right off the first date, and without spending a penny on her.
Women arenʼt hard to have sex with. The problem is, you have to believe it to see it, and itʼs something weʼre conditioned not to believe until we see it.
In spite of all the blunders and then losing out by a problem I didnʼt cause, I have still taken a huge step in my journey to finally stop women from viewing me as “not that kind of man.”