I was discussing with Magnum (http://magnumlivelarge.blog) over Twitter those Red Pill vignettes – brief, evocative episodes of Red Pill truth – which I had felt in the past with women but could not understand.
One of my dearest friends is gay – let’s call him the Pilot. He invited me, along with some friends, to an inner city gay pub called the Imperial to join him for a drink and a bit of partying.
He and I are close – and closely resemble a gay couple in appearance and affection. It’s strange – we just love each other as friends. There is no fear of affection, hugging, kissing on the cheek or anything that could be labelled “gay” – we are deeply bonded … even if he sucks cock and I eat pussy.
The Polish Girl
A opera singer friend of the Pilot’s turned up, along with some random camp dude and an ordinary looking Polish girl. She was also an opera singer and was in Australia on a holiday.
We took to talking and briefly discussed the usual about an overseas holiday – what have you seen? What do you think of the people? etc. The usual chitchat.
The Pilot and I are usually pretty energetic, bouncing jokes off each other and enjoying each other’s company. He and I got to the discussion about how the hotel had been used in the film Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and that there was a drag show later – basically a transvestite miming some power ballad while standing on the bar.
The Polish girl and I got back into conversation about men and she proudly told me that she had joined Tinder while in Australia – “I mean, I’m on holidays, right?”
I was inquisitive – Tinder had always been a cesspool for me – so I asked her about it as if I did not know anything about it.
“Yes, it has been very good”. She showed me an assortment of guys that had matched with her … and they proceeded to tell me that she had FUCKED SEVEN GUYS SINCE SHE HAD ARRIVED TWO WEEKS AGO … and that she intended to maximise her time here as she only had a few days left.
She was a dreadful-looking girl, beefy and bloated. No doubt she could sing coloratura in addition to sucking random cock. I might have thrown her a rose while on stage as Aida but that would be it.
She showed me some of the guys she had fucked – a mixed bag. The faces looked equally hungry.
We got on to the topic of my son and I showed her a few pics. She warmed – briefly – before asking about his mother and the arrangements between us.
“Well, we share the child equally. It’s the best arrangement at the moment”, I replied drily.
“Yes, but, how does it work legally in this country between the two of you? … I want to say, what is the legal agreement?” She looked at me puzzled.
“Well, you sit down and make an agreement”. I couldn’t understand the line of questioning.
“Yes, but you are gay … so how does it work?”
I went quiet and looked at her. “Umm, well, we have an agreement to share custody. I’m not gay by the way”.
She stiffened considerably and I saw the briefest flash in her eyes of ‘what have I done?’
“Yeah, I take care of him. It’s just me at the moment – single Dad. I don’t really want to introduce new women to him”.
I remember a coldness entering the room and her conversation dried up to next to nothing. She was a few paces away from our friends so could not bridge the gap. I threw in a bomb.
“So, have you lined up a guy for tonight? You haven’t got much time left”.
TL;DR – This is a love letter to a woman I love very much.
This is a love letter to Miss Bumblebee. She reads the blog and is the only girl that knows about it.
I can imagine your thoughts as to why I would tell a girl about a blog that purports to explain my process of transforming into a Player – “the changing nature of a man” as the title suggests.
I took a risk – I decided that I would tell the truth, that as women craved leadership, guidance and masculine direction to lead them down the road of relationship and children, I too would show the truth of what I wanted and who I was as a man.
I wanted sex. I wanted validation. I wanted to feel that I had dominance over women and could seduce them through charm and power. I wanted to overcome the demon of being a fat kid. I want to be attractive to women, channeling my masculine energy to give them peak sexual experiences. That’s what I wanted.
But with Bumblebee I was reminded of what it was like to be Blue Pill – romantic, boyfriend-like, emotional. I was in love – I still am in love with her – and I like the fact that I felt all these things without needing Game or seduction or power plays.
I asked a lot of guys in the seduction community about love. Many threw the same platitudes at me: oneitis, women can never love you in the way that you love them, love is a skill, etc.
So I came to a conclusion, drawing on the words of an Address in Freemasonry:
“he bears his furrowed brow and presents his bosom fearlessly to the midnight storm”.
Men in the Red Pill/seduction community are afraid of expressing themselves. They are fearful of love. They are fearful of emotion. They are fearful of the loss of power that accompanies an expression of feeling. They suffer from a “failure to feel”, much like my father, so they can stay in control.
I am determined to not be that cardboard cutout Red Pill seduction guy.
I am my own man.
My family and I arrived in Pisa on a cheap flight from Berlin. My brother and his then girlfriend had planned a two week trip through Italy – describing it as the last great family trip for all of us.
I was accompanied by son – it was the first overseas trip since I split with my ex and the longest period I had taken care of him on my own. Five weeks with a two year old.
We arrived at the Tower of Pisa, rounding the corner to find this incredible structure replete with a church and a baptistery. It was a huge piazza and I was amazed at how very few photos showed the extent of the area.
Chinese tourists mingled and approached my son, not asking for permission to pick him up and take a photo with him. I liked that, surprisingly.
Dad and my brother took silly photos of hands pushing the tower over, the kind of shots you’d get for posterity. It was sweet.
Dad, rounding out almost 78 years, came over to be with me. My family had separated from us and we looked longingly at the Tower.
I was reminded of the difficult year that had passed. My ex had left me, I ended up living with my parents at 36, my Dad had discovered an auto-immune disorder that had driven him to the brink of suicide, my Mum had lost control and wanted to leave the house and the marriage, and I had been sexless and angry and lost for 12 months. It was an Annus Horribilus.
I asked him what he thought of the Tower:
“Dad, be honest with your feelings. Now is the time. Just let go.” I placed my hands on his shoulders: “How do you really feel looking at this Tower?
His eyes watered up – so did mine – and he finally told me something real:
“It’s wonderful. I’m so glad that I could be here with all of you.”
He no longer suffered from a failure to feel.
My ex-father-in-law, from a relationship with a Colombian girl many years, was an exceptionally tough and passionate man.
He embodied all the qualities of strength, dominance, seduction – and emotion.
I laugh as I read some of the trite on Twitter – men who encourage me to throw my son off a cliff for crying, absurd commentary on not expressing emotion with women.
This man – my ex-father-in-law – let’s call him Neruda. He was a warrior, a poet and an artist.
He grew up at a time when, walking home from school, he would discover men strung from trees with their throat cut and tongue pulled through. He was in the Colombian Army in the early fifties – exceptionally under-resourced and a rabble. He travelled around the continent selling pharmaceuticals and wooing women.
And he loved Neruda and poetry. It took him 35 years to get to La Isla Negra in Chile to see where the poet lived and wrote. When he arrived in Chile, he expressed himself freely, crying and rejoicing the arrival.
He lived strongly and he felt even more strongly.
I am so glad to have had him in my life.
He reminds me of what a man can be when he decides to live freely.
I Learnt Many Great Lessons From My Father
One of the opening quotes is something that resonated with me for a long time. It was from a speech Jim Carrey gave at a university graduation. As he concludes the quote below, there is a moment – a micro-expression – of deep grief for his father.
“My father could have been a great comedian but he didn’t believe that that was possible for him, and so he made a conservative choice. Instead, he got a safe job as an accountant and when I was 12 years old he was let go from that safe job, and our family had to do whatever we could to survive. I learned many great lessons from my father. Not the least of which was that: You can fail at what you don’t want. So you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.”
The purpose behind the blog, behind seduction, behind being good with women – is because I failed at what I did not want for my life.
Dear Miss Bumblebee,
I know you have asked me why I am doing all of this.
I have a demon inside of me that said I would never again let a woman decide the kind of relationship for my life.
When I dropped my son off to live with his mother, I felt like I had failed. I had failed at being good and so decided I would live a life of truth.
I failed at something I did not want.
I decide for myself that I would always choose the kind of women I wanted in my life, and the the kind of relationship I want with them. That’s it.
I was – I am – deeply in love with you in a way that I have never experienced. But I know that between us, you want a life of marriage, cohabitation and children. I cannot do that.
I would prefer to love myself – and my own choices – than be with you and feel that I was not a complete man.
I am becoming a complete man by taking control of my own life and relationships – including ours.
I genuinely care for you. This sexual roller coaster of women is simply a way I discover my power as a man.
For the first few months when we were together, we were in a bubble of excitement, lust and love. It was very strong between us.
The feeling deepened and we travelled overseas together. There I realised that my plan of being sexually free had hit a wall – I was angry and ashamed as a man to feel that I had “committed” to you sexually yet wanted to fuck many girls around me. In fact, the purpose of the trip was that.
Infidelity used to bring me a lot of shame, as if I was making a deep mistake as a man. Now I feel free and do not feel any shame for my sexuality or desire. Man are by design like this – and so are women.
The Red Pill is the truth of evolutionary biology, and teaches many harsh realities about intersexual dynamics between men and women.
It teaches men about Alpha – characteristics in men which sexually arouse women and provide the best indicators of genetic fitness. Men with power, physical strength, doing what he wants, speaking his mind, having a purpose, and expressing his desire freely.
It teaches men about Beta – characteristics in men which make women feel provisioned for (resources) and safe in their lives. Men with tenderness, empathy, and compassion.
Women crave both of these qualities in men – sexual arousal and safety/security.
I gave you both of those experiences.
This is why your previous loves were safe and secure but they did not generate the passion and excitement you craved, the sheer lust, the fucking, the dirtiness.
I was that guy. The guy you wanted to fuck. Uncontrollably. All the time.
That dirty guy – me – who fucked you in the park on my birthday. When I dragged you downstairs to that empty room at the birthday party. When we came home one night from tango and I stripped you down in the hallway and fucked you there before you rode me on the lounge. When you dressed up as a schoolgirl. When you dressed up as a Bumblebee.
That was thrilling and exciting for you.
But a guy like me wants to experience that with many women because most women do not experience it. Alphas cannot be contained.
I cannot contain this energy just to you. I want to share it with other women. This journey of the last six months has been to discover in every way possible how to seduce women. That’s the purpose of this blog – to document that journey.
For a time you felt that I would change, I would become loyal to you – and only want you. That is not me. I would be lying to myself if that was the case.
And I promised myself when I dropped off my son that I would never again lie to myself about what I want. It’s not just about sex – it’s about the freedom to live the life that I want. My world. And my world is not your world.
My world is about seducing women – single, with a boyfriend, married. About giving them exciting experiences and adventure sex. About romancing them and putting them in a love bubble. About letting women enjoy themselves sexually – with other men, with other women, at sex parties.
The blog is a dirty account of women – shocking even for you. Women crave the Alpha and Beta in a man, but sometimes the man does not have both. So sometimes she will seek out other men – exciting Alpha men who give her pleasure – and then return to her Beta boyfriend or husband.
Women cheat. Women fuck for pleasure. Women love dominance. Women love darkness and danger in men.
Women also love the light – the love, the tenderness, the affection, the sweetness. But in life I think women receive too much of this and not enough excitement.
And in my life I have spent too much time in the light. Now I want to be dark.
I remember a sad conversation we had about our lives, how each of us wished we had had a mentor to guide us through and teach us what we needed to know so that we would not spend our lives going in circles.
I learnt that harsh lesson at 34 – that despite being good, being a father, being a man trying to do his best, I was never an Alpha, never a man that my woman would find arousing and attractive. Being good was a lesson in failure.
At 37 I started studying intersexual dynamics – what makes women really attracted to me. I studied the Red Pill, Game, seduction, evolutionary biology, fashion, fitness, female psychology, sex skills, and everything I could find to help me make sense of what had gone wrong.
It works. It makes women more attracted to me. They want me, they desire me, they get excited by me. It’s a power that I have never had.
And I see you now – a woman who feels betrayed that life did not give her a loving husband and children and a happy life. You feel the curse of your family, about why none of you decided to have children and carry on the family line.
For a moment there I wanted to be your White Knight and rescue you from your sadness – but then I realised, I had done that to the previous women in my life … and they were no happier. I went so far as to have a son to a woman I was not in love with.
I love children. My son is the greatest gift to me – and as I hold him up in the light I see myself in him. (Well, hopefully he’s mine!) You thought I would be a great father to children of yours – but you could not trust me enough to stay and commit to you.
You like me – you have loved me – because I have given your life direction and purpose. You see me as a leader, as a lover and as a father. You see me as the most attractive man in your life. And you have seen me in love and excited to be by your side.
Yet life has failed both of us. It has not taught us at an early age what makes men and women happy in their lives.
But for me I decided I would find out how to be a bigger man and live my own life.
And with great sadness, that life is without you. I cannot be the Good Guy by your side – it is not me. It is not my plan. It is not my world.
Some final words: I fell in love with you at a time before any of this – Game, seduction, etc. It was completely natural between us. I am thankful for that experience – it was never manipulative, just something that naturally occurs between human beings. I hold that close to me as something special, something I treasure. With someone I won’t forget.
We can now both look up and whistle while we walk so that our tears will not fall.
“Let’s be honest – you have just never been fucked properly!”
English girl, 25, and a good example of a pickup using skills I had obtained on the street applied to one of my music jams. I suppose it could be called Music Game.
She was a budding – but dreadful – jazz singer and I accompanied her on an out-of-tune rendition of Summertime. I had been playing for three hours and as the night ended, I noticed her moving out of the venue. I stopped her – like a daygame front stop – and very directly handed over my phone for her number and an offer to go out for a drink.
We met that Thursday night at a bar near her work. It was happy hour and we got drinks with minutes to spare. She took off her coat to discover a smashing figure and leopard skin top.
The date proceeded – a little dull although I knew she liked me so pushed ahead. When we started the Question Game I could see that she was going to ask lowball questions about favourite pizza toppings and the like. I sensed innocence – whatever happened to dirty, grubby English girls?
She was an accountant and, like many English girls, tended to hide her full expression of emotions through alcohol. Combined with accountancy, she was dull.
I bounced her to a second venue and we – I mean I – ordered drinks and dinner. There, at the venue, I sexualised the conversation as it really wasn’t going anywhere:
“Listen: we are going to make out before you finish that glass of wine”.
She looked at the wine glass like it was a prop in a Hitchcock movie – once it got to empty a bomb would explode. She glanced at it over and over again – I finally had her attention.
“Ahh, now you get it, you’ve realised that I’m here to decide whether I’m going to seduce you.”
I pushed her to sexualise the Questions Game – she had a vibrator, used it three times/week, never came during sex, had last had sex in October 2018, and had sucked off some guy when she was 18 and then told her boyfriend at the time. Ahh – now that’s the English girl I expected.
So I threw in a grenade to shake things up:
“Let’s be honest – you have just never been fucked properly!“
We moved to another bar where I dragged her into a hallway and made out with her. It was dreadful. She was one of the worst kissers I have ever experienced – small, baby kisses like a child. No – strike that – my son is four and he has given me better kisses.
God – what was this girl going to be like in bed?
I put her in an Uber and sent her home. Haven’t seen her since.
“Look, I am a good guy. I really want to make sure that I can be the best man … for my son”.
Japanese girl, 33, and a good example of slow K-selected game.
We had met at one of the coffee shops in the city and I had sneakily grabbed her Line contact out of site of her colleagues.
One day, before meeting a new Daygamer, she came to meet me and trailed me around the city in a huge act of compliance. After the Daygamer arrived, I said goodbye and muttered to him: “I am going to fuck the shit out of that girl. It will be the best fuck of her life”.
She and I scheduled a coffee date and we went up to Hyde Park to talk. It was a lovely afternoon and we sat by the fountain where many Daygamers had done their first sets.
She was wary of me and could smell Player from a distance. She asked about whether I had a girlfriend, whether I had other women, my past relationships, etc. She told me about an old Taiwanese boyfriend of hers who had cheated on her so she left.
At this point I realised she was very K-selected and needed 2-3 dates at least to be ready to fuck.
So I softened, told her I had a fear of clowns, was learning how to tap dance, was a nice guy and did charity work in my spare time. She seemed unfazed.
Then I dropped the Joker on her:
“Look, I am a good guy. I really want to make sure that I can be the best man … for my son”.
She melted. I could visibly see that she had changed her image of me. The pendulum had swung in my favour.
We finished our coffee and she joined me to find a microphone for my camera as I was planning to film a piano/vocal session I was arranging. She ran around the city following me – yet another exercise in compliance – and we later said goodbye in front of Town Hall.
I resisted the kiss. I wanted to save it for later. When she does finally kiss me, I will ask her back to the house and give her the biggest fuckfest she has ever experienced.
Peach was the subject of Lay Report 004 – Peach, a young 21 year old Swedish girl whom I met through a Sugar Daddy app and then fucked after she reached out to meet for a booty call.
Below is a summary of a dinner date I had with her some days later – where we planned the next step of our strange relationship.
I did not expect to see her again. My last four lays had simply disappeared and did not want to meet again, presumably because of the quick nature of our meeting and seduction. Peach, however, I invited to dinner.
She was to meet me at 7:30pm at Town Hall Station. At 7:45pm, I was annoyed and decided that I would open the first girl I could find – a young 20 year old French art student who was sitting smoking nearby.
We chatted for a good 30 minutes. I expected Peach to turn up any minute and find me talking to this girl … but she didn’t. I got the Smoker’s Instagram details before receiving a series of apologetic messages from Peach. She had slept through her alarm.
I asked her to meet me – on my terms – which she eventually did, apologising profusely for being late. It seemed plausible – her hair was wet which was a no-no in grooming so she must have rushed to get out of the house. She looked wonderful, wearing an expensive blouse and a pantsuit, draped from behind by her long hair.
My plan was to take her for a drink at Bambini, a wine establishment, before bouncing her to a rock venue called Frankie’s to eat pizza-by-the-slice. The pizza was out – she would have been the most overdressed person in the bar. So we went to drink wine and I thought of a new plan.
We sat down and I requested her to ask me a difficult question. I expected it to be something sexual, but the smart girl in her hit a nerve:
“Tell me how you feel about your new life now that your son is with his mother”.
This girl was bold. Committing a Red Pill sin, I told her how I felt – free to live a single life of debauchery, yet hurt that I could not spend enough time with him. But I came clean:
“To be honest, I am happy with the situation. His mother is a good parent and I want a free life”.
I could see that she was trying to compare her hardships to mine, but I knew she was realistic about how very few difficulties could be faced by a girl of 21 living a life of privilege in Sweden.
The conversation moved on and I asked her about the Snap message I had sent her:
“Now don’t get any big ideas that I will finger you under the table and fuck you in a disabled toilet.”
She told me she was only expecting dinner and danced around the topic of sex until I squeezed it out of her. She was on her period and did not like to fuck when bleeding.
I felt she had played me, got angry and paid the bill and left. She tagged along and eventually told me that as I had suggested dinner, she had come out. Women take whatever role you give them.
I cooled down and told her I would go for dinner – she was welcome to come if she wanted.
The Golden Century
We went to the Golden Century, the best Chinese restaurant in the country and a haunt for gangsters and criminals after midnight.
Over pickled vegetables and Satay chicken, we had a bizarre conversation about sex parties, erotic massage and vibrators.
I elicited from her the usual standard sex information I get out of girls – she had had sex with a woman, used the oral contraceptive pill, had never had sex with two guys before, had never tried anal sex, and had never been to to a sex party. I had overestimated her.
The Photo Shoot
A friend of mine, the Russian, had told me he needed a girl to do a photo shoot for a vibrator that he was importing into Australia. It was a small gig and only required a tasteful thigh shot in lingerie while holding the vibrator.
She seemed curious – not only for the cash but also the guy importing the vibrator. I asked her why: “well, whether I would fuck him”.
I then told her about “my world” – which is essentially the essence of Frame. In my opinion, Frame is the world she steps into – yours. When she tries to snatch the Frame, she is attempting to draw you into her world.
The Frame I set for myself was a sex-positive guy involved in sex parties and partner swapping. She did not challenge this Frame and seemed genuinely curious to enter this world.
Except … there is no world. I bluffed her. A number of mates – RP Musicology, SG, and others – had teased the idea of going to sex clubs and parties. None of us had any contacts and I would wager little experience.
Propelled from my recent lays, I set about thinking what would strengthen my Frame as a Top Guy – and decided that I would create my own sex parties on a small scale and filter girls into it.
1. Pick up skills to attract as many young women as possible
2. Filtering/Frame skills to filter out the non-contenders
3. Sex skills to keep the girls interested and give the appearance of experience
4. Physicalityand looks – an essential quality for younger girls
Peach seemed keen and had never been involved in anything like that. I had her hooked.
Peach had mentioned during our hookup that she was interested in erotic massage.
I told her what I knew about it – she needed her own table and private location to receive clients, she needed to know about erotic massage techniques, and had to consider carefully what services she would provide.
She seemed green to all of this – liberalised Sweden had given her the idea that being a sex worker would be a good thing to do … but still she had the mindset of a new girl who had to find the guys attractive. Clearly she had no idea of what sex work entailed.
She had no venue to receive clients. I toyed with the idea of my house before realising it was too risky as I wanted to keep my place.
I suggested an erotic photo shoot and an advertisement on the internet. This fed into my interest in photography and a good example of how I could build an erotic photo collection to send to other girls.
But then a dark idea struck me – why not feed her Blue Pill clients from my other social gatherings? The Red Pill guys would not bother – they could already get girls. But the guys who struggled would be perfect candidates for an erotic massage with “my Swedish friend”.
I suggested that she attend one of my functions where she could meet up to 80 men, some of whom would be great candidates for erotic massage.
As we sat there, I asked her whether she thought I was good with women. Very good, she said. I asked her why:
“Your looks, the way you talk to everybody, the way you talk to me as a woman. You remind me of my brother”.
She had joked about another sugar daddy she had – Paul:
“Perhaps he could be your first client”, I remarked. The guys on the site were dreadful in appearance and I knew this girl was fucking me because of my looks.
“I know you can pick up guys. You’re a hot little 21 year old from Sweden with a nice arse and fresh looks. And I’m an attractive guy and can pick up girls … so we are even”.
We stared at each other:
“But you are really just an innocent little girl who likes to wear pink and thinks she is more important than she really is. Tell me honestly: was it a good fuck between us?”
Very good, she said.
“Next time I see you, Peach, you are going to sit on my face”.
What Do You Want In Return?
We talked until 1am. The whole time she gently rubbed my leg and I sat there with an erection, thinking when I was going to fuck this girl again.
I did not get the sense there was strong desire between us – but I liked the girl. She was my test case to see whether I could bluff her into thinking I was more of a Top Guy than I really was.
I liked talking to her freely about sex and desire, to the point we were planning sex clubs and erotic massage.
I liked her innocence and Scandinavian squareness, at the same time seeing her trying to rebel against a heavily socialised and feminised system of thought.
I liked that she was the hottest woman I had ever met, was sexually open, on contraceptives (I could cum in her), and curious.
I liked that she was girly and loved dressing up and wearing pink.
I liked that she did not have the deep depth of sexual experience – this gave me space to draw her in.
She asked me what I wanted in return for all this. She understood value exchange:
“I like you – I haven’t made up my mind yet what I want”.
I had made up my mind – I wanted her to bring me new girls to initiate into sex parties, or friends who were not being fucked properly. I wanted to dominate her and introduce her to new sex acts – to choke her, tie her up, fuck her in the arse, and trade her with mates so I could fuck their girls.
It was a fantasy – but having coming so far in the last six months, I was ready to create this world rather than wait for others to gift it to me.
I dropped her home. The temperature had dropped and I gave her my jacket as she shivered up the street. We kissed a little and then she snuck inside, sending me a sweet message thanking me for the night.
TL;DR: I banged a black French girl who I called The Banker. Long philosophical and romantic rant mixed in between the lay report.
The post is more a philosophical musing session than pure lay report and fuckfest. There was plenty of fucking and dirty moments – but interlaced with romance and longing. Gammas , Twitter trolls and cardboard Alphas please leave now!
Nash from Days of Game (https://daysofgame.com) had posted recently about his servicing of a young Korean girl whom he had met a number of times. I found the post poignant and timely – both the Swede Peach and now this French Banker had reached out to me even when I was not feeling particularly in a fuckery mood.
RP Musicology, a wing of mine and an upcoming star in the philosophy of seduction in Sydney (in my opinion), decided recently he would not go online to meet women as the ones he met brought an “overtone of sadness” to the date.
That phrase echoed with me – what is it that women long for apart from a good fucking session? Why do they bring this energy with them if they “have it all”?
I mused on this topic post-fuck with the French Banker as she gave me all the clues about what she really longed for in life.
And strangely, this Lay brought back a haunting memory of the deep longing for happiness that Miss Bumblebee has been pursuing all her life, without mentors or support from men or women. Her longing still haunts me.
The Set Up
It was Saturday. I had spent lunchtime with an Indonesian girl in Hyde Park drinking coffee and sizing up whether I liked her. I had opened her some weeks back in Darling Harbour, a very hot set that was very dominant towards the end as our faces stood inches from each other.
Fresh from this date, I made my way to Circular Quay to take some photos a la Goldmund’s Camera Game (https://goldmundunleashed.com). I started out learning photography as a snake seduction effort to meet women – yet it turned into a passion of mine and I started enjoying it for the photography itself.
The camera became my prop for Daygame. When I approached a girl I could either go direct with a compliment or indicate I was after a portrait. It allowed me to roam the streets with a plausible backstory as to what I was doing.
I met two lovely British Indian girls, one of whom had checked me out at the lights. I took a photo of them both and wished them well.
Another, an Argentinian girl in white pants, was wandering aimlessly around the Opera House and so I opened her direct. She had a boyfriend, was not interested in going for a coffee, and THEN she hooked. I came in for another landing due to the missed approach however she was not interested in giving out her number.
The day had been satisfying and I made my way to the bus stop when my attention was arrested by a black girl applying make up on the street.
The French Banker
She was wearing an elegant body suit, straight black hair, and red lipstick. I opened her by asking for a portrait as she looked impeccable (using a Latin root word instead of a Saxon word so that she would understand) and threw out the assumption that she must have been French.
She was – a French girl from Paris and leaving on Friday. I asked her out for a drink that night (credit to Good Looking Loser) however she said she was meeting her brother who lived in Australia and was then travelling to New Zealand.
She asked for a photo. We hailed a person nearby and he fumbled through the DSLR process. As she stood next to me, I felt her breast push into my chest. Subconsciously, it was clear to me that I would eventually fuck this girl.
We exchanged numbers, parted and I later sent her the photos. A date was scheduled for Thursday at 6pm.
Texting was brief. Mostly logistics and complimenting her on her photo.
We met at the Potts Point Hotel at 6pm and she had gone to the rooftop bar to order a Chardonnay as I was running a few minutes late.
I had left the house tired and low sex energy, Tweeting that I would honour the reach out a la Nash’s post. Thrashing in my mind was whether I would be hard enough to fuck her.
I sent a post to the Daygame group I am part of with the challenge that would have one drink with her and then bring her back to mine.
Arriving at the bar, she was there at the table with glass of wine in hand. She looked wonderful. We sat opposite each other under candlelight and I ordered gin on the rocks.
Within about thirty seconds I started touching her hand and the caressing between us escalated quickly. The conversation was simply flirty small talk – she thought I was a spy, I was different, she was a banker for BNP Paribas so I teased her about that.
About Men and Emotions
We talked about men – she liked men who emoted freely and were not the strong, silent type. This resonated with me as I was tired of the cliched cardboard cutout Red Pill guys who were scared of expressing emotions freely.
To me, a full expression of emotion is the final challenge for a man. Not only can he be a warrior, but he can also be an artist and not fear free emotional expression because some Twitter warrior wants to shame him and call him a “cuck”. I had tolerated abuse on Twitter before – one guy even had the temerity to tell me to throw my son off a cliff because I let him cry. Real fuckwits encapsulated in 120 characters.
Men shame men – but the strong man stands before his peers presenting his chest fearlessly to them and telling them he is what he is – himself.
Soon our drinks were close to completion and she took my hand and put it behind her neck. It was a sweet gesture and I called it light energy. What is dark? she asked. I turned my hand and put it around her neck in a mock choking hold. She looked at me and smiled: “That is also light”.
I kissed her on the neck and we soon left the bar. Arm in arm, we walked up to the El Alamein fountain and asked a person passing by to take a photo of us. It was a sweet pose – she sat on my lap and we held each other like lovers.
We made our way down to Elizabeth Bay House where there was a lovely park overlooking the harbour. I had rolled out a blanket there years ago and played with my son as he formed himself in a parachute position and smiling at me at eight months. God I miss him.
At the park we made out and I pulled her top down to suck on her breasts. One of the most exciting moments for me sexually is when a woman slides her hand down my pants for the first time. We reciprocated and I started playing with her clitoris. She was a trembler.
I put out my hand: “I am going to do whatever I want from now on and if you don’t like it, slap my hand”.
We left and made out again on a little bridge overlooking the pond. As we walked up the hill back to the main road, I threw her against a wall and started making out again.
This time, more aggressively, I licked my hand in front of her and put it down her jeans and started to finger her. We were stuck under a bright light in front of a building. She moaned and was very wet and juicy. Soon a gay couple were walking past so I pulled out my hand and sucked on my fingers for her to see.
We jumped in a taxi and went back to mine. Crossing the six lanes, I grabbed her had and ran her across in between traffic. We stood at the door and I invited her in.
She took off her shoes and sat quietly on the lounge as I pottered around, put away Krauser’s Daygame Infinite that was lying on the bed, and poured two glasses of white wine.
I had promised to sing her a song on the piano – Chet Baker’s Time After Time – yet as we sat on the lounge, she was motionless. I felt a signal – she was ready. I took the glass from her, stood her up and started to undress her. (Roy Walker’s recent lay report https://roywalkerdaygame.wordpress.com/2019/05/12/lay-report-sdl-with-a-russian-stunner/ talks about this – the moment where she signals “can you just get on with it and fuck me?!)
DTF – Downtown Frenchie
We undressed each other and her breasts popped out, plump and ripe. Her body was fantastic – curvy, narrow waist, and with a delicate belly button piercing. She took my jeans off and knelt down and starting giving me a blow job – one of those wonderful moments when a girl knows how to suck your cock from tip to root … and then glances up at you with lusty eyes.
I was never a BJ man and got her on her feet, turning her around and starting to take off her jeans. I pushed her on the lounge and pulled at them. I got her up again and started fingering her while my dick was teasing her from behind. She mentioned a condom – she came prepared – and I took her to the bedroom.
I picked her up and threw her on the bed, opening her legs and giving her head. She was sweaty and a tad smelly – but what did I care when this hot, fantastic black girl was on my bed? She was a trembler and kept shaking as I chomped on her and eventually made her cum – deep trembling followed by a crash and then comfort pose.
I was soft. As I kneeled in front of her, ready to penetrate, I reached for a Sagami and then before I was ready … she just lustily pulled me in. My dick, after 38 years, was inside a black girl. I remember years ago fantasising about this while looking at JPEG porn on the internet in old dial-up days.
We fucked and we fucked and we fucked. I took her from behind standing while she rested her body on the bed. She continued to tremble and she orgasmed as I pounded her and played with her clit, often pulling her hair and shoving her head into the pillow. I leant forward and whispered in her ear dirty things. She muttered many times “J’e taime” and spoke French softly.
We rested for a bit as she was cold. I snuggled with her and held her in a strong bear hug pose to give her comfort. The blanket and nakedness had started for me that old teenage feeling of horniness and I put her on her side, scissors style, and started fucking her heavily. It was deep penetration and ball rubbing.
I pulled out, pushed her back down, and blew all over her, a reckless mess of créam semen over a black backdrop.
She lay there peacefully as she had also cum again. As I looked down at her, she reached around and took some semen in her hand and then licked it. I asked if she wanted a towel and a shower. She declined: “No – I want to keep this as a souvenir”.
Time After Time
From meet to fuck only two hours had transpired. It was 9pm. I had promised her a song so we made our way to a music jazz jam I liked to frequent on a Thursday night. There we ordered drinks and a mixed plate and made out like lovers on a cheap lounge. The host asked me to get up and sing – I chose Time After Time.
I am a romantic and I see no fear in creating a romantic bubble for a woman. After the semen swipe, I realised the full range of human expression – from dark and dirty, to sweet and saccharine.
As I dropped her home, she shared with me some truth – a few funny and sexy, and others which haunt me about women:
1. She told me that her breast push when we met was deliberate. I laughed and told her I knew. She was surprised.
2. She wanted a photo of me, hence the reason why she asked someone to take a photo the day we met.
3. She knew we would have sex from the moment I touched her hand early in the date.
But the haunting thing came after as we talked deep rapport about our lives and hopes. Bumblebee came to mind.
She told me that she planned to work for another five years so that she could purchase a house without debt, have children and be a hard working and dutiful wife to her husband, pottering around the garden and taking care of the family.
I had heard this before – from Bumblebee. Future plans of loyalty and relationship success – yet what saddened me was that these dreams are rarely realised – it just “never happened”.
Both the Banker and Bumblebee were high value women – well-formed, educated, successful, and attractive. Yet the narrative they have been given is often in contrast to what women truly want of their lives – masculine direction, drive and purpose.
When I used to talk to Bumblebee about her life, I sensed that she really wanted a mentor to help and guide her along the path of being a woman. Now, at 43, she has a huge amount of regret for not being with her family, and talks about the curse of none of her brothers or her having children.
I once offered to have a child with her but not in the usual Disney romantic manner. She rejected the idea. I realised then why we have White Knights – men sometimes really do want to rescue women from their directionlessness. It’s a form of empathy.
My deep sadness is that the Red Pill teaches us how women lose their Sexual Market Value in their late twenties and thirties. Their fertility window declines and they increasingly struggle to find men to meet their biological needs.
Both the Banker and Bumblebee face the prospect of never meeting their needs for family, simply because society has co-opted them into a corporate market structure that delay its until they are too late. Coupled with female indecision, it makes for a haunting, sad mix.
The Red Pill is obsessed with power over women, fears of hypergamy, and in my experience lacks real empathy for women. I might be labelled Purple Pill – it slides off. But how did we get to this point where we learn to seduce women yet we cannot show any emotion or sympathy for their lives. We all need hand holding, to quote Ron Paul.
Who are we as seducers? And what do we really want to feel with women?
She was giddy and excited at the thought that we could perhaps meet in Paris during my trip to Europe. I hesitated and then told her – yes, I would see her. I liked her and wanted a mini-romance.
My colleague Coach Kondo had encouraged me some months back to try a sugar daddy site that a mutual colleague – SG – had been successful with. SG had made his way through 34 girls in little over four months – a preposterous figure backed up by photographic evidence and testimonials. Kondo and I called it Seeking Game.
Kondo did not believe I was “all-in” and had failed to materialise the prize of laying young hot birds as I was more interested in ego service through blogging and weak attempts at night game.
He wanted me to be like Roger Federer – a steady hand, churning through matches and getting results.
The Set Up
I joined the site and chose my best professional photos including a few pictures of me singing and playing the piano. Like many curious men on dating sites, I scrolled through the male profiles to scan the competition and saw a selection of dreadful images – men with half-eaten heads in the pic, bathroom selfies, and late night shots over a glowing laptop. I would have hated to be a chick cutting through the crap to get to a top quality guy.
I came across an young 21 year old Asian girl who appeared to be photoshopped looking quite exquisite in designer clothes, impeccably made up and with cheeky eyes underneath tattooed eyebrows. We matched and started chatting over the app Kik – essentially a chat program where you cannot see the person’s phone number.
I had a lapsed Kik account from a failed attempt at Ashley Madison and so my profile was “200 days on Kik”. You could filter the gold diggers from the curious girls by the day count – some ambitious chicks had 1000 days or more.
The chat over Kik descended into one of the strangest exchanges I have ever had with a girl. We started with pet names – “Peach” for her, “Coco” for me. She was Swedish, originally adopted from Korea, and in Australia for a year on a working holiday visa.
I asked her what she liked about my profile. “Well, firstly, you have photos. And you are handsome”.
Soon our chat was in the form of rhyming couplets. We started writing long form poetry to each other, interspersed with sexual comments, our respective fruit names, and jokes about other sugar daddies she had.
Peach and I had planned to meet each other on the Sunday for dinner and drinks. I was using the date to scope out what kind of Frame I needed to get her without making any kind of financial arrangement – to be a Salt Daddy of sorts. My plan was to end the date if she suggested an arrangement at any time.
I had signed up to Snapchat just after I fucked the Brazilian and still had an active account. Peach and I had been texting via a number after transitioning out of Kik. Snap was a step further and allowed me to sexualise the interaction a bit more.
I sent her a picture of some Shibari rope – she asked whether we were going sailing.
I sent her a picture of a vibrator – she asked whether it was lipstick.
I sent her a picture of two butt plugs – she asked them if they were bubble bath containers.
I liked this girl. She seemed fun and dirty for her age.
Our Sunday date fell through due to the spurious claim that she had thought she was working in the morning and not the evening. Seemed like bullshit but I let it roll off. We scheduled for the following Sunday.
She sent out a follow up text for a Tuesday night meet up. I was already committed to a Freemasonry meeting and could not meet her.
On the Tuesday she sent me a message asking what this formal occasion was all about, signing off with “fuck that, I’m horny”.
I arranged to go to the Freemasonry meeting and left precisely at 9pm to get back home and then to Kings Cross by 9:45pm. As I left the meeting, the Master of the Lodge looked at me with a tiny glimmer in his eye and knew what was up.
I knew the lay was assured but held reservations about the lack of seduction and whether I would like her. I consulted my Red Pill neighbour and he told me one of his guiding principles for laying girls – “honour the reach out”:
“It’s a free kick from a girl. Even if you don’t feel like fucking – honour it. Strike while the iron is hot”, he said wryly.
I spoke to RP Musicology as well. He told me to just run the date as if it were a normal date and to go Mode One (his pet love and a strong acolyte of Alan Roger Currie) early on in with strong sexual intent.
Kondo had described me as more Nick Kyrgios, the upcoming Australian player – temperamental, prone to outbursts, and lacking nerves of steel when push came to shove.
I calmed my nerves and made my way up to Kings Cross, channeling Federer.
Peach turned up on time and was smartly dressed. She seemed like a designer girl, a little overdressed for the average Australian evening, and strangely a little plump in her outfit. I was beginning to worry she was not as tight as my due diligence investigations on Facebook had found her (in bikini on Ibiza with girlfriends).
We went to a cocktail bar in a former stripclub and began to get to know each other. The average guy would have been happy to fuck this chick within minutes but I felt that the direct booty call reach out was running against my instincts as I genuinely wanted to seduce this girl … so I started gaming her in the normal way – and it worked. I felt like I could have seduced her under different circumstances.
At one point she remarked how many thought she was Brazilian as she was tanned and Asian. I mentioned that she reminded me of a Japanese Brazilian girl I had dated. She was offended and said that she did not like to be compared to other women.
“Why?” I demanded. “Why? Tell me why.” She was silent. “To be honest, I don’t really fucking care whether you like that or not. This is me and this is how I talk. Now, this is my arsehole moment in the date – you like that, don’t you?” She nodded. “It turns you on just a little”. She nodded. “Now, where were we?”
I asked her about Sweden. She found the guys boring, the country safe, and wanted a change and some freedom. But what about younger guys? I asked. She returned it quickly: “I don’t date puppies. I date men”.
The date went well and we soon came to the end of our drinks. I made an observation: “You know what this means? I say ‘lets go’ and you come back to my house so I can fuck the shit out of you.”
We left and I grabbed a taxi for the house. She was safe and put on her belt – very Scandinavian. Jumping out, we had to cross six lanes to get to my place. In usual fashion, I spiked the moment by running her across the road with cars coming. We were safe – obviously – but it always gives a girl a jolt before a fuck.
I had just set up my mini bar and she poured us both a drink. We made out – her lips were soft although I did not sense she was a big kisser. I took her to the bedroom and she lamented not having a matching bra and underwear.
“Try this.” I offered her a Japanese dressing gown. “Get naked and wear this. I mean – what kind of girl comes for a booty call without matching underwear?”
When I returned to the room she had let her hair down and looked breathtaking. I undressed her and asked her to jump on the bed for a massage. She was …. the hottest girl I had ever seen in my bed – tanned, perfect skin, great figure, and with incredible hair. She was my ideal woman.
I gave her a full body massage while we drank and smoked. Complaining of tight shoulders, I made her get up and then get on her knees and give me a blowjob while I massaged her. Vanity before dignity, she complained the oil would get in her hair and so we tied it back.
The blow job was good – but as a man I wanted to fuck so got up, picked her up and just threw her on the bed.
The underwear came off and I ate her out – ass and all. I tested a finger in her ass and got a not-so-interested response. She was a vagina girl.
Turning her onto her belly, she had a half-burnt cigarette in her hands and was flickering it out the window. I had had enough by this stage and just took her from behind and started fucking her while we passed the cigarette to each other.
I always like to test for penetration by putting a girl on her side scissors-style and seeing how far I can go before I get a jolt out of her. She jolted – my job was done. It was like a dick-measuring test to see what had entered before me; and an ego test to see whether I could make her feel like my cock was big enough for her.
Soon I had her in a standing doggy and started fucking her rhythmically and in a trance state. I remember seeing Rocco Siffredi, the porn star, fuck in this position, with a delicate hand crossover at the base of her spine – thanks Rocco. Handing her a vibrator, she made good use of it and came hard – in total two or three times.
When I fuck there is a like a switching gears moment when you go from fucking mode to cumming mode – I had her on her side and fucked her until I blew my load all over her side and back. It just kept coming – 38 years of sexual frustration and player envy meted out on the back of a young svelte Sverige girl.
We cuddled and eventually settled into sleep. Two hours later I got up for work – unwashed, unkempt, and fucked up. I made coffee, gave her head, and left the house with pussy juice on my beard, black coffee taste in my mouth, and the thought that I had just smashed the hottest girl in my life.
1. Always honour the reach out from a girl. It’s a free kick.
2. Sugar Daddy sites are, in my opinion, a platform where 50% of girls are looking for money and the other 50% are looking for experiences with older. I know there may be some disagreement about “Salt Daddy” game which is why I have documented it here. This girl was looking for experiences and I only had to offer what I would normally offer on a date – drinks and perhaps dinner.
3. Online dating creates a disconnect between the woman and the man from the outset as they have yet to trade DNA compatibility, sexual desire, etc. I sat on the date generating desire by gaming her in the usual manner.
4. Young girls rarely, if ever, ask for a condom. Women in general don’t seem to care as much for STIs as they do for pregnancy. TIP: if a girl insists on using a condom, give her head and make her cum hard. She will then more likely pull your penis in raw as she wants to feel you inside. Not an advocate for/against – just citing my experiences.
“She wanted a fight, and she wanted me to win.” – Polar Binks
This is a Guest Lay Report from a wing of mine – Polar Binks.
I Tweeted recently: “I like Lay Reports when they have a story arc, explain milestones and signals, and describe what makes for good seduction and sex.”
I want this Guest Lay Report series to be didactic and teach Gamers what is possible with womenvia good storytelling.
We are all primal creatures and apart from the love of fucking, we also like a good story.
Enter Polar Binks
I am writing this report one day after the lay so I have had time to put things in perspective. First and foremost, game works. After 50 or so approaches, 3 dates I have proven to myself that it is indeed possible to approach gorgeous women on the street and convince them to have sex with you. The world lied, Santa is real, there is a God.
If I had to describe my First Day Game lay, I would compare it to having a reached the summit after a slow and steady climb on the mountain side. The view is amazing, the air is fresh but also my oxygen starved mind is hallucinating on mixed feelings of possibilities, achievement, and lust.
She was 30 minutes late. Let’s call her Suz. Normally, I would be unhappy at such tardiness, however considering that the date location I had picked was out of city (for logistical reasons) and not super accessible, 30 minutes was bearable. I later found out that she had moved houses the same day, so it was miracle she showed up at all.
Sticking to the Krauser’s model for dates, Venue 1 was a coffee shop, the idea being that you can have a normal, neutral conversation to calm the nerves, build rapport and comfort in a low pressure environment. That’s not exactly how it panned out. She rocked up, looking tired and a bit irritable. We ordered coffees and she made it clear with a tone that left no room for arguments that she would be paying for her drinks, I was only too happy to oblige. We sat outside. The conversation was flat, something I had not experienced on my other two dates and I was not well prepared for the awkwardness that ensued. It was probably my fault, I was trying to get her to invest too early (the other two girls had been happy to invest and share early on), she however was either not interested or not comfortable sharing facts about her life.
The First Bounce
After a very ‘exchanging resume’ style conversation, I moved us to the bar next door –Venue Two – which had a vibrant atmosphere with drunken laughter and spilt beer (on the account of people trying to fit a whole night of drinking into a few hours before Good Friday trading restrictions kicked inat 9 pm). We ordered drinks at the bar, she ordered a gin and tonic, I of course had the scotch and soda. As per Krauser’s advice, I should have told my date to pick a spot while I get the drinks, in order to build compliance. However, my last two dates had literally picked the worst spots in the venue leading me to believe that girls are incapable of doing anything logistically sound on the first date.
We sat next to each other in a L shaped booth, and so began a barrage of shit tests. While the conversation at times was light especially when sharing stories about drunken escapades, a lot of other topic of conversations were met with disdain, ‘Why are we talking about this’, ‘how do you expect me to answer that question’, ‘Uhm nothing.. what are YOU passionate about’, ‘you judge people too much’. My standard physical escalation ‘you have such small hands’ (which had worked well last couple of times ) was met with ‘obviously, I am a shorter person’ with a look on her face which if verbalised might have added ‘you fucking idiot’. I held my own though, I am used to abuse in my line of work (when you are giving 50+ year old tradesman engineering advice, you learn to take a few).
I ignored her negativity, it was evident from her constantly shaking leg and lack of eye contact that she was still nervous and probably very tired. Regardless, she had made the effort to come out after a big day, she was sitting there, wearing tight clothes, looking hot, she wanted to be fucked. But she would not waste her time with a chode, I could tell from her demeanour that she had walked over many men in her life. It was understandable, her pretty face and tight, petite, young body naturally drew a lot of male attention. Still, despite being a sex-theory expert in my own mind, I could not figure out the play, I had been non reactive to her shit tests and I still didn’t see any opening, no attraction.
She then commented on how my drink was disgusting and she could not understand why anyone would drink something that tasted that horrible. I told her that it was customary in my family for girls to only drink whisky and soda after marriage and it is all she would find in my house after our wedding. That drew the biggest smile and a slightly murderous look in her eyes. Good. It was obvious. She wanted a fight, and she wanted me to win. From then on, building attraction was relatively easy, the formula was simple. Take any negative assumption she made, exaggerate it to make it 10 times worse and convey how I gave no shits about what she thought of me. So I turned the shit test about me being organized and being a boring travel companion into me kicking her out of bed at six in the morning and slapping her with a strict hour by hour itinerary. Even though I am nothing like this on holidays, to try and qualify myself to her as a ‘chill and free spirited dude’ would have only lost attraction, the point was, I did not care what she thought of me.
Above – Polar’s First Holiday with Suz
The Second Bounce
Lacking a proper venue 3 (cocktail bar), I had planned for us to go for a walk in a park (that was on way to my apartment), a seed I had already planted in her mind. As we crossed the highway and turned into a quieter street, my heart started racing, this was going too well. Unable to think of a smooth way to escalate I just blurted out ‘show me your hand’, she complied and I held it lighty. ‘Clever trick!’ she exclaimed at my audacity. I let it go, she didn’t, she was happy to be led.
I slowed things down in the park, taking time to comment on its several features that gave this particular park the illusion of being a hollywood filming set. As we approached the end of our walk, I pulled her in and kissed her. She responded with such enthusiasm, that I could have pulled her to private spot in the park, but my apartment was only a block away. I walked her to it and pulled her with the excuse of finishing a movie I had started (another seed that I had planted earlier). The rest is for my memories alone.
The Wrap Up
My first lay would not have been possible without the excellent support I received from the daygame community with Red Coco being prominent among the mentors. It is for the most part a path that needs to be walked alone, but with the right support and peer group you can turn lead into gold. My advice to beginners like me would be to find peers who you vibe with, take time to support each other, be positive and don’t be an energy leech. Your good day game wings will be more important than any girl you can pick up.
Early on in my journey I have realised that no one owes me anything, if someone does something nice for me, it is a blessing, not an entitlement.