Lay Report: a disinterested little 🇵🇱 ex-stripper

I recall this set back in March, just as covid was taking off. She turned off the main street which leads up from the train station, giving me a low energy opening. Although he caught only a fleeting glimpse of the thing, had only a brief impression of a broad, strangely flattened head, pendulous writhing lips that bared curved pointed fangs, and a hideously misshapen dwarfish body*, she was dressed all in black. Black leggings. Black leather jacket. Black hair. It was a comfortable open, well-timed on the quiter street and she immediately smiled and laughed. She was comfortable. Her English was good. She was 23, a sports therapy student. I felt the set went well, that it was strong and that she was invested. She didn’t have Instagram or WhatsApp. Just Facebook. And the strange thing was that it wasn’t under her real name but a clear pseudonym. Meh, I thought, as I pinged her a messenger later on that day. The days drifted by with no reply. Not that I had checked to be fair, as my alerts are turned off for fb messenger.

It was probably a week later that I eventually received a reply from her. Here we go, I thought. And then she disappeared again. Before springing back up in April.

• 

This pattern continued for weeks. She would inundate me with a neutron star-type bout of communication, and then disappear for weeks, leaving me on read.

We reach July and we agree to meet in Poland.

• 

July came and went. More conversation hiatus. We reached August and her commitment returned. Sunday night it was agreed. 8pm.

I arrived in Poland and checked into my hotel. 45 minutes before I was due to see her. Enough time to have a stroll around the Old Town. Suddenly I get a massive IOI off a cute blonde in tiny jean shorts. Instant date with what turned out to be a Ukrainian student. We order wine. She gets a call from her friend and tells her she’s running late. Her friend isn’t impressed, but neither is the Ukraine girl when I tell her I have to leave in 5 minutes. Wine finished and number close. I make my way across the square to my date, some 6 months in the making. She’s dressed very cute with her eyes done up very pretty. She tells me it took her hours to do them. She’s wearing a tight, short dress and flat-soled shoes which at first I found strange as she’s very short. She has a great gym body and is very athletic.

We grab a regular bar I use before I take her to the place I was at on NYE, where the Russian virgin confessed she was pure. We were sat in the “dungeon room” and had it to ourselves. It was an effortless escalation. I had her sat on my knee as I gradually ramped up the tension and escalated. The conversation was good but she was increasingly obviously a classic cute girl who probably had suffered (suffers) some form of depression or anxiety. She alluded to a 3 month period working as a lapdancer and an abusive ex. The strip joint was above the bar we were drinking in.

We had one more drink and I simply stated that we were going back to my hotel. There were no objections. The sex was immediate. She was horny and completely compliant. However, she did not make any noise during sex. For such a little girl I’d have expected, in light of the fact that I’m a relatively large man, to have received a nice ego stroke. But there was none. She was not overly into the sex, but she did wake me up at 5am for round 3. As the morning light came through the crack in the curtain, I made her sit up and wank me into her hands as we kissed and looked into each others eyes.

And true to form. We exchanged two messages the day after and it’s been radio silence since.

We still aren’t friends on Facebook.

And I don’t have her number.

*insert by Gilbert Stones