Coach Kondo provided me with an insight into one of the three planks of Storytelling – namely Adventure. Specifically, he talked about an Adventure story a woman can share with her friends (or keep for herself and replay in her mind).
Miss Boulder comes to mind immediately, a German girl I met on holidays in Berlin in July 2018.
I met Miss Boulder at a rockclimbing gym in Berlin. Eager to escape the cramped conditions of my brother’s house, my son and I went to a local bouldering gym. He was almost four and made a great wing (possibly my best).
There, as we walked in, a long set of stairs faced us and a German girl came down in black tights to pick up something from the stairs. She turned sideways and stared at both of us. The look she gave – the “on” sensation – was something that I felt immediately (and still feel to this day). It wasn’t apparent to me in my pre-Game state what this meant, but having experienced it a number of times now, I count the “on” feeling as a reference experience – a matter of when, not if, we would fuck.
We went upstairs and I started climbing while my son clambered up the walls and fell on the mats. I was lightly dismissive of her, focusing on my climb, as she sat in the corner sorting leftover clothes. She kept asking questions about my life, about my son, about the trip to Berlin. It was apparent in that exchange, even to my pre-Game mind, that she was attracted to me.
As we left, oddly for a German, she gave me a big hug. My little wing, one of the most effusive and sweet boys I have ever met, gave her a love attack of kisses. She gifted him with a LEGO brand hat and a big squeeze hug.
We dropped in a few times to the gym, coinciding with her shifts there. Her interest was high and we eventually exchanged numbers over a cigarette. It was an awkward number exchange, the kind that implicitly knew what was to come.
We were to meet for a drink about a week later, just before I planned to go on a ten day trip to London and Paris.
Logistics were shaky – I had rented an AirBNB apartment near my brother’s house where I was staying solo … yet the owner was one a fifty-something lesbianish German woman who kept her door open all night and would turn her light off once I came home.
She planned to meet me after a yoga class she was attending with a friend. Ready for the date, she sent me a text telling me she had gone home after fighting with the friend over some trivial issue while they had a drink after the class. Since when did yoga produce such anger?!
The date was cancelled and she was relegated to flake territory. She planned to meet me on my return to Berlin but I was not confident it would go anywhere.
My son and I went on a ten-day trip to London and Paris. I forgot about her and did my best to take advantage of the very limited logistics and opportunities to meet women. I tried with a Russian AirBNB host but she resisted the kiss at least five times and I did not have the stamina to win her over.
In the afternoon, on the way back on the train, and as my son slept draped over a cheap Deutsche Bahn second-class chair, I sent her a text saying that I wanted to see her that night as it was my last available night in Berlin.
She sent an apology, telling me that her best friend’s father had died suddenly. The friend had sent her an SOS message asking for her company. She could not make the date.
So I responded:
“Take care of your friend and send her my commiserations. She needs your support and love. Before I go, now that we won’t see each other, I wanted to tell you that I found you sexy, charming and alluring from the moment we first met; and I really wish we had had more time to get to know each other. Best wishes and take care of yourself and your friend”.
She was very grateful to hear this and replied: “It is really wonderful to hear this!!!”
We returned to Berlin late in the afternoon, settled in to my brother’s apartment, and the usual domestic routine set in – bath time for my son, pyjamas, dinner and bed.
Late, around 8:30pm, I received a text from her saying that she was free to meet up for a drink. I asked my brother for the most hipster-head-exploding bar in town and he recommended the Monkey Bar in Ku’damm. There, at 9:30pm, we agreed to meet.
The (Rescheduled) Date
The Monkey Bar queue stretched out the door – hipsters lined up with groomed beards and lensless glasses to await the craft beers and smoked meats of ultra-Hipsterism. Berlin got to me sometimes.
She was there and the first thing she did was to drag me away from this tourist spot. This was the first date she had ever been on with a foreigner, she said.
She lived on my Strasse and knew a cocktail bar nearby. She had already had a few beers before seeing me, likely in preparation for the date.
We sat and enjoyed a cocktail, sharing trivial conversation about the trip and her life. I brushed her leg and then gently rubbed it from knee to hip. It was too much for her and she lunged in for the kiss: the kind of pushy, tongue-y kiss indicative of a looong time in the wilderness. We made out for a bit before one of the strangest exchanges I have ever experienced with a woman:
She: “Look, we have a problem. You are staying with your parents, brother and son. I am staying with my two brothers who are cock-blocks. And I really, really want you to put your penis into my vagina.“
Me: “Thankyou. That would be a delight. In return I would like to put my head between your legs and suck on your breasts and fuck you silly”.
She: “I like that. Agreed.”
I was equivocating about logistics and mentioned hotels, parks, etc. She then paused herself and held up a set of keys: “I have the keys to the bouldering gym”.
We rushed to an Uber and arrived at the gym. It was located in an eerie open courtyard (where you’d find Peter Lorre lurking in the shadows stalking children) and we went inside. The owner was cheap and had neither alarms or CCTV.
Up, on a ledge, there was a small bouldering area with a climbing route on the roof – and to protect the fall, a mattress. There we undressed – I gave her sex eyes – I sucked on her breasts – I pulled out my cock – and then I pushed her on to the mattress.
Hungry women have two tells: 1. heavy kissing and 2. the urge to put you inside them as quickly as possible. She had lunged herself at me at the bar; and on the mattress she barely let me kneel before she pulled me inside of her. There was a sigh of relief; for me always it was a feeling of coming home.
I gave her head, discovering huge labias; turned her over and fucked her from behind; tried to doggy her but the bouncing foam mats did not help; and kept her in a missionary fuck trance until she came a couple of times. She looked at me with her hazel eyes and then told me she wanted me to cum while looking at her.
We moved back into a missionary fuck trance and she held me tight and looked at me with an intensity and a hunger I had rarely experienced (except for perhaps Miss Bumblebee). I pulled out and came all over her chest with an emotional crest – and then the crash. She rode me after I had cum but there wasn’t a drop left in me.
We held each other for some time, about an hour (post-coital credit to The Red Quest theredquest.wordpress.com), before we dressed and stole a Magnum from the ice cream for the journey home.
As we strolled along the Strasse on the way home, both in a glow from coitus and blood sugar high, we held each other and talked about how naughty we had been. I asked her about whether she risked her job for doing what we did tonight – she didn’t care.
She dropped me at my brother’s and I pushed her against the wall for one more serious makeout. As she left, I wished her well and told her to pass on my condolences to her friend for her father’s death.
She grinned: “Thankyou. She gave me the idea for the rockclimbing gym and wants to know how we went.”