September Progress

Total sets: 56

Numbers: 17

Insta: 8

Dates: 4

Lays: 3

Prague

Sets: 7

Numbers: 0

Insta: 2

Dates: 0

Lays: 0

UK

Sets: 29

Numbers: 11

Insta: 2

Dates: 2

Lays: 2

Poland

Sets: 20

Numbers: 6

Insta: 4

Dates: 2

Lays: 1

I am sat here now with my turmeric latte, in Pret. I am much improved, physically, than I was at this stage last month having battled covid and campylobacter. I am somewhat removed from the shrivelled, decaying emancipated state that I was back then. I ate a ribeye steak and a fresh caught North Sea lobster last night. I also drank 3 cans of Tetley’s Smoothflow (a much under-rated ale). I have done 56 sets across September in 3 countries and slept with 3 girls.

There is no electricity in the village

It is the easiest thing in the world to weasel out of a set on a hot British girl. More than any other, a hot British girl will quickly show you for what you are – a deluded waster punching above his weight; a creepy old cunt, or just a loser, who has achieved nothing (I have been accused both implicitly and explicitly of all of these things, usually all at once). University-aged girls in provincial cities (mine has at least 60,000 students) puts it on a par with the largest of any European cosmopolitan university city. Of this number, perhaps a third are overseas students. Imprint this demographic onto a relatively condensed campus and city-centre space, and you have opportunity. But like I said, the dating hierarchies are brutal compared to most European cities. The foreigner arbitrage that makes daygame so pleasant and easy abroad, is gone here. It is just you – your value held up in broad daylight. People wonder why Khabib is the way he is, or more accurately why his character is the way it is. The answer is quite simple: he stripped away, over his formative years, the padding and glitter. He earned his skillset in the province. I always smile when I hear the Gen 1 school and the London Set of daygamers crying at the fact they are served lobster and steak everyday in a city of dominated by foreign tourists, several large universities and huge numbers of women, there is no one to open, they say.

Khabib, meanwhile, rolls with the bear.

Lay Report #1 Derry Stunner

Late one morning, while working from a coffee shop with Matt, he pushed me into a set. I went outside and followed her for a few meters before she took a call and disappeared into the metro station. I decided to have a little walk around the circumference of the building. I almost bumped into a tiny, beautiful blonde with sharp, angular cheek-bones and feline eyes as she exited the station. I turned around and followed to an opportune space and opened. I smiled, looked abashed and shook my head and simply said, ‘look, I think you look nice‘. The conversation was clean, sharp and fun. We had good rapport and vibed on several topics that came up. It was an easy number close. I messaged her later that afternoon and went with my instinct to invite her out that night. She said she was in work until 8pm but agreed to meet afterwards. I arrived in my go-to date venue a little earlier than her to secure prime sofa seating and ordered a pilsner. I prefer pilsner because it is dry and functional. She tuned up in tight leggings, Dr Martin boots and a little top. Her waist was incredible and narrow, while her tits were obscenely large for such a tiny girl. Her face was a picture of beauty, with chiselled cheekbones and naturally voluminous lips, big blue eyes and long blonde hair. I dominated the date with my intelligence and she loved me for it: she sat wide-eyed as I discussed my PhD research and travel stories; engaged as I pontificated on human evolutionary theories. She was at ease and would frequently playfully tap my bicep as the conversation turned more playful.

Around 90 minutes into the date I turned to her and said,

‘Ok so we have decision time. I have the car, but I would like to make us a gin and tonic back at mine. Let’s go back, watch a movie‘

‘you’re not going to kill me, are you?’

‘no, I prefer to keep you alive, you’re more use to me that way‘

I stopped off at Sainsbury’s for some premium tonic water (I always keep good gin at mine, on hand, because I am not some fucking shyster penny-pinching loser).

We arrived and the process was straightforward. She struggled to remove her DM boots but soon we were on the sofa hunting for a movie and sipping on our gin & elderberry-laced tonic. She continually joked that I was married because ‘there is no way a man can decorate a house this way‘. I played along, saying that, ‘my wife was upstairs so if we fucked, she’d have to keep the noise down so as not to wake her‘. My beard was large and my veins on my forearm were vascular.

I began to kiss her. Softly. I began to lick her neck and moved back to her mouth and started to lick her lips and told her ‘this is how I am going to kiss your pussy‘.

She moaned. She was mine.

We began to kiss with more passion, exchanging saliva.

The sex was incredible. A simply beautiful girl with an astonishing body and naturally beautiful features. I fucked her on my sofa, drunk on the sight of her tiny, pert arse. We watched a movie and went to bed at 02:30. I woke once more in the middle of the night and she was soaking. I fucked her on her side before she asked me to come in from behind. I turned my bedside light on dim, and we watched in my wardrobe mirrors as I fucked her in the 5am darkness, before dozing and waking up to her alarm at 7am.

As she dressed, she looked at herself in the fitted wardrobe mirror and said,

‘how am I here. I only met you yesterday. It makes no sense‘

I dropped her home and we planned a second date. An obvious meeting mind of mind and body – great compatibility.

I messaged her later that day and it took her 4 days to reply. She apologised for the delay and explained why. The reasons for which, I won’t go into here.

Lay report #2 Polish Stockings with Pilot Boyfriend

I arrived in Poland at 23:30, got to my hotel and dropped my bag off and was out for a walk and a pint by midnight. The streets were subdued but bars were open and there was a buzz. I noticed one girl heading in the same direction as me. She was dressed in a white maxi dress, carried a leather jacket and wore white trainers. But what really interested me was the fact she was wearing stockings. I could see the tops of them showing under her hemline. Stockings are an undeniable fetish of mine. As she walked, she would periodically pull down her dress. I was about to open, but she answered a call. We continued to walk in the same direction towards the main square. Get off the phone, I was inwardly saying to myself. She ducked into a bakery-type place and I parked up in an outside seating area across the road from her. I ordered a beer and waited. She decided to eat whatever she ordered inside which gave me time to finish my beer. She left the shop and was still on the phone. Fuck this I’m opening anyway, I said to myself.

I walked over and got her attention and asked her outright, while gesturing as if I had a phone to her ear, ‘boyfriend?’

She smiled, at first ignored the question and asked if she could help me, before answering that it was her boyfriend. I raised my hand and walked off. I was not done yet.

I had decided to wait a little until she came off the call as I shadowed her back to the square to get another beer, or open her properly again. As predicted her call came to and end and she walked down the side of a block which I could easily ‘double back’ on and ‘intercept’ her. And indeed, this is exactly as it played out. I was on the other side of the road, just about to cross when she noticed me and smiled. I made my way over and entered the set. Initial signs were positive. I invited her for a drink. It was a yes, and we made our way to a bar I know well. She asked for a large beer and we sat outside talking. It turns out that she was on the phone to her boyfriend, a pilot who was presently overnighting in Detroit. He had asked who the ‘disruption’ was earlier, to which replied ‘some hot foreign guy’ which resulted in an argument. I offered to buy another round but she refused. By this point I was a mess, turned on by her lithe figure, big brown eyes and svelte, stocking-clad legs. I wanted to fuck her. So I told her I did.

‘This is what I want to happen tonight. I want us to spend the night together. I want you. Either at my place, or yours’.

And it was that simple. She paused as she looked at me and said that we would go to hers.

She showered on arrival but I made her put her stockings back on. The sex was decent. Nothing special. A pretty girl with nice tits and nice legs. I fucked her and we went to sleep. She left for a work meeting at 8am and came back home at 09:30 and made me coffee. We swapped numbers, and I left.

Lay report #3 18 year old Spanish Fresher

The day before I flew to Poland, while perusing the street-choices in the late September warmth, I noticed a petite brunette girl enter Wilkinsons. I followed her in and chose an opportune time to open her, just as she was looking at the frying pans. The set was fun and she enjoyed it, thanking me for ‘making her day’. She was Spanish, from Madrid, nicely vintage at 18 years old and just about to start her first year at university. She’d only been in the UK for 4 days. It was an effortless number close and we exchanged a number of voice notes as I was away in Poland, the tone of which meandered toward meeting up for a drink ‘and food at mine’ the Monday of my return. It turned out to just be Food at Mine (FAM). I cooked us pasta, and opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio. As I am prone to do, I often embark on diatribes and humorous pontifications. This was no different as she sat at the kitchen table grinning away. She was dressed like a little bohemian feminist which admittedly put me off, but, as I was to discover, it covered an exceptional set of tits and all-round hardbody. After the meal, and on retiring to the living area, escalation was straightforward. I moved her closer to me 10 minutes into a movie. Kissing ensued followed by a nominal, ‘let’s watch the rest of the movie in bed‘. I sheathed my engorged, thick, disgusting cock in rubber and instantly felt the choking murder of my erection as the rubber snared my thickly veined and brutal penis. I fucked her on my bed with the curtains open, but not before standing up with her facing the fitted-mirrors on the wardrobe, playing with her monumental tits and admiring the hourglass curvature of her teenage frame. She was surprisingly strong as she made attempts to manhandle me in bed. An hour or so later, as we watched a movie downstairs, I straddled her and wanked my cock-off over the mammoth bunions growing outward from her chest plate and smeared my grime and cock-mucus into her teenage nipples. I dropped her home at 23:30. I arrived home, ate some onion rings, applied matrixyl and hylauric acid to my face, before finishing with night moisturiser enriched with caviar and snow algae.

3 Daygame lays (2 SDL) in one month

So here you have it. More ultimately pointless engagements with women too young to have a future with. Oh how I miss that connection with a woman who lives proximal to my home, that I can do all the proper girlfriend things with: that first 6 months of adventures, day trips in the car to little quaint places, lazy days on the sofa, exciting Friday nights out for drinks before chilling back at home. It’s fun to see a girl a few times a week who is legitimately hotter than you, who is interesting and fun to be with, where no meaningful language differences to speak of exist so that you can actually build a fucking meaningful emotional connection, and talk in complex sentences and actually convey grown-up information.