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PostPosted: Sat Oct 15, 2016 11:58 am 
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Joined: Mon Oct 03, 2016 10:52 pm
Posts: 69
Location: Poland
The night starts suddenly, when I enter the club at the ground floor of my dormitory, a seedy room with too little light and too much alcohol.

Mother of God, there I am! In the middle of an 80’s party, a victim of the homemade alcohol, just drinking whatever comes by. Than a gentle touch on my shoulder. A Ukrainian beauty in and old-fashioned black shirt and skinny jeans - tight enough to underline the sculpted thighs – dark and warm eyes enchased in a cute and oval face, framed my long straight dark hair. She is looking for one of the Spanish guys, but I decide to pick her up anyway. After all, she came asking to me.

I open challenging her to a guess game: both of us have the chances to guess each other name, if she guesses mine I will take her to the Spanish guy, if I guess hers she will dance with me (a game really easy to win: my name is rare even in Italy, let alone outside of my country; while the vast majority of Ukrainian girls here have names like Julia, Anna, or Anastasya/Nastya). She accepts smiling, and while talking a take her in a corner where my Byelorussian friends are drinking shots of Soplica. They all hug me and offer me a few shots, that I drink gladly. At the third consecutive shot, I feel the gentle hand on my shoulder again. Apparently, that was a sufficient DHV for her: she invites me to dance, and few seconds later I go caveman on her. While dancing at some horrible 80’s Polish song, I grab her firmly by her waist – with our body so close, and judging by the sudden change of the expression of her face, she can feel my erection through the pants. The kiss is almost immediate: a long, passionate kiss. I feel the Soplica, her tongue, and…garlic. An acid, horrible taste, like rotten garlic dressing at the end of her mouth.

Suddenly the taste is everywhere, the nausea is grabbing me by the throat. I dump her in the middle of the dance floor saing that I have to go back to my firends, and run back to the Byelorussians. I need Soplica to erase that horrid taste. After a few minutes, I see a funny scene at the billiard pool: among empty bottles and cans of beer on the stained pool, sits a minute girl, shy and intriguing, dressed as Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's. In front of her, a half-drunk Polish guy trying to pick her up. Her body language is clear: she’s afraid, but too shy to send him away. I have to save the damsel in distress.

I decide to go full-classic on her, after all I need practice. I approach her on the left side, interrupting their discussion with a classic canned opener: quick question, but I have only a minute because my friends are waiting for me over there – pointing the half drunk Byelorussians at the corner. We’re having an argument: who lies more, men or women? The first to answer is the Polish guy, and he signs his fate. Less then a minute later they’re arguing: he says that obviously women lie more, while her insists on the contrary – I was lucky enough to pick a girl with a good level of English. I suggest the guy to take three drinks, so we can talk better about it, and for sure yes, the drinks are on me, just bring me the bill. He walks away enthusiast, and I take away the girl to a dark corner. Her name is N., and after explaining to her the meaning of her body language, she asks if I’m some kind of psychologist. It’s time for another classic, the Cube Test. At the “stairs” part, the Polish guy come back again, drunker than before, blabbering something. I make him notice that it’s very rude of him to interrupt a conversation, especially when she’s saying to me private thing, she agrees saying that she’s in a middle of a psychology test, and the poor fella walks away. I feel like a hypocrite, but it’s better a winning hypocrite than a lonely honest guy.

Fast-forward a few minutes. She was amazed by the Cube results, and started confessing me her insecurities and fears, her doubts and her dreams. I can teach her a technique to feel the warm sensation of happiness, even in the eye of the storm. Third classic: the Warmth Builder escalation routine (brief guide here http://bristollair.com/2008/outer-game/ ... h-builder/). I simply changed the word warmth to happiness to link it with our conversation. I suggest that there is way too much noise here, and we better continue our conversation in a more private location, like the bench on the third floor corridor, and we go upstairs. She smiles saying stairs - pointing her finger to them – like the ones in the test. She’s so cute.

Lady Luck comes in my help again: the bench is occupied by two guys drinking beer, while a third is playing a guitar, so we start talking in the corridor. After a couple of minutes, I notice that she’s shifting her weight from one feet to the other: the pain caused by her heels is rising from the minute feet to her lean legs. Maybe it’s better if we sit a down a bit…like in her room. That was a mistake, but I could not find my roommate with the keys, so I had to adapt.

On her bed, she’s so shy and cute at the same time that something stops me from being caveman again, and instead I make her relax a bit with a back massage, followed by gentle kisses on her neck and her ear. She chuckles, she smiles, she likes it, but something is wrong, and I cannot understand what. It takes ages to me to finally kiss her properly, but then I notice she cannot even kiss properly - strange, she’s 19yo after all – and an unidentified bells rings in the back of my head - what I’m missing? I try then a “yes” pattern, asking if she likes it when I kiss her ear. Yes she says. Her neck – yes. Her clavicle – yes. Her chest – yes. But she stops me on her small, light pink nipple, just under the black bra. LMR, I’ll try to go Mystery on her, with a turn-off. I roll on my back, beside her, I turn on the lamp near her bed and say that it’s not a real problem, we can just be friends. She murmurs something in Polish, while she cuddles on my chest: I can feel her heart pounding fast, like a scared rabbit. She murmurs again, this time in English, but I cannot understand, and ask her to repeat. She says it’s nothing important, but in a few attempts I persuade her anyway. And then she confesses: she has never been with a man, ever.

That phrase strikes me, hard. I have never been with a virgin, only more experienced girls, especially at my humble beginnings. It’s the first time, for both of us. What can I do? Never read about virgins. I try to switch a bit the roles, and I start kissing her, slowly moving her on top of me, hoping that could help her confidence enough. It works, I think, because I start caressing her legs up to her young, but perfectly formed, buttocks.

A voice in the corridor, the door slams open, and a screaming and crying little blonde come burst into the room interrupting us. She’s the virgin’s roommate, she’s crazy and she’s screaming something in Polish. Boyfriend issues? Maybe.

I try to calm the situation, but I cannot cope with the linguistic barrier. My virgin blushing, and suggests to abandon the room, because her friend is not feeling well. A quick fantasy about a threesome with a virgin comes to my mind, and I start gathering ideas on how to do it, but the fantasy is chased away when the crazed out blonde throw a mug on the wall. I abandon the battle with a swift kiss with my virgin, and I go back to my room.

Happy and angry at the same time, I try to sleep. N.’s perfume is still on me, and it tastes like the ones they use to sell in small pink bottles.



I know that I could have done something more, but my way to become a PUA is still long. Artists, tell me, what could I have done better? What you would have done, being in that situation?

_________________
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K527 you are becoming a degenerate savage! :twisted:


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