It had been a long week. My final Saturday had seen this filthy, horny, hungover mess of a man leave the apartment I shared with my wing and head out to hit the bricks as he laid there in bed. The day was overcast, chilly and wet. I headed over to the river and strolled around near the viewing steps. I had seen a girl on the phone I was going to open, but her boyfriend turned up. Suddenly, out of the blue,
“WHERE ARE YOU FROM”
Was blurted from the maw of one of two 16 year old-ish girls. They had suddenly appeared behind me. We exchanged a couple of sentences and that was it,
“BYE”! They blurted
It was near enough at this point that I opened the “Pink Welly Girl” (see lay report).
I made my away along the river and approached a medium-sized shopping centre. I opened 2 girls and Instagram-closed them both. One had the best ass I have seen, while the other said I was too old. Ukranian girls – a nut I can’t crack. Still in tepid Instagram communication with the great ass girl, but I can’t get a meaningful hook.
I walked into the shopping centre for some warmth and a flat white. By now, I was a dishevelled, deep-voiced hungover mess. I had that deep, rasping voice that Torero would often have on his podcasts (but better and deeper than his!) owing to the lack of sleep and piss-ups across the week.
And then I saw the tall, svelte and natural-looking blonde in a glaring orange/pink wooly jumper. I moved into the bookshop and opened her immediately – stacking on her fashion sense. It was a beautiful and high-energy set, full of smiles and jibes from both sides. She as 21, a Siberian and studying and working in Poland. She made it clear she had a boyfriend, but I Instagram-closed all the same.
I felt really good. I had just done three sets (the Ukranian set I felt was nailed on – but has to-date gone no-where) that ultimately ended in 2 lays. But I get ahead of myself.
1 week passed and I received an inbox, beautifully Russian:
“How old are you”
“Old enough to show you a thing or two, little girl” was my reply.
Conversation and shit tests began in earnest. For two weeks the conversation developed and I loved the back and forth. She was an astute, intelligent, witty and beautifully elegant and feminine girl to engage with. I booked another trip (Pink Welly Girl was on) and dates with the Siberian were in the offering.
I landed in Poland and showered and went for food, before meeting the Siberian in a Bar. She was 30 minutes late and saw the Ukranian long-legged curly haired 8 hostess hand her phone back after I Instagram closed her. She looked at me with that mix of contempt, anger and desire. What else am I supposed to do in a bar on my own!
We had a drink and caught up. She was dressed all in black and was long-legged and beautifully elegant and innocent. It was a complete pleasure to be with this girl. We went for 2 more drinks (she didn’t want any more alcohol) before I walked her to the tram. The most I could get were cheek kisses as she playfully rebuffed my advances.
The next day we met for coffee. We sat there gradually immersing ourselves in each other. I loved her innocence and general girly countenance. Her legs were draped over me and my gradual massages across her legs evolved to strokes across her pussy under her skirt. She was hot. She didn’t object. By now I was kissing her fully and her neck was receptive to my touch and lips. After a second coffee she left for work and I did 3 more sets (one of which turned out to be little Married Polish Brunette – see lay report from New Year’s Day).
Saturday afternoon I receive a message from the Siberian:
“I am angry you have not asked me out tonight”
2 hours later we met we met and walked around the markets for a short-while. We found a small speak-easy and she was by now in my frame. Her whole demeanour had softened; gone was the testy, pointed little remarks designed to provoke a response. Here instead was a girl who outright told me that she was going to miss me. I felt a little taken aback by this. But I reminded myself that girls emotions are continually back and forward and a man cannot be drawn into one subsection of this range. The girl who missed me and liked me today is the girl who prefers a different man tomorrow.
I had earlier that day slept with the Pink Welly Girl and I was absolutely ruined from an all-night house party at a Polish friend’s house. I knew she wanted me to ask her to my apartment. It was fully on. But I was exhausted. It was midnight. I had a flight in just over 6 hours. The timing was wrong and I was in no rush. I walked her to the tram and went home to salvage some sleep.
On my return to England (and on a whim) I decided to return for New Year’s Eve. I had initially organised to see a different Russian girl I met through Daygame in Newcastle and spend New Year’s Eve with her in Amsterdam. But this dropped off (I didn’t bother myself to engage with her shit tests). So the idea of spending New Year’s Eve with a Russian was still alive and well.
The Siberian was excited that I was visiting and when I suggested that I would perhaps come back on New Year’s Eve she was emphatic – she wanted that evening with me. So I booked a good hotel and counted the days. I had a girl travel from Estonia to spend Christmas with me (see Estonian Lay Report) so my Seasonal Break was shaping up to be one amazing Daygame adventure.
New Year’s Eve finally arrived and I left for Newcastle to relax in the lounge with a few drinks and even took my work laptop to make myself feel more productive. I left the lounge with 30 minutes to my flight and walked the20 meters to the departure gate. The plane had only just arrived and the staff informed me that they were probably running ten minutes late. Off I popped to the lounge again for a swift ½ Heineken. I donned by gear and headed back to the departure gate. Only this time I stupidly turned right into Gates 16-30 (my gate was 15). I was locked behind some security doors. The flight was now departing in 10 minutes. Panic ran through me. I grabbed the telephone mounted on the wall and urgently pleaded for them to open to door. I sprinted around the corner towards my gate and was stunned to see absolutely no-one stood at the gate or in the corridor whereas a mere 25 minutes ago the corridor was jammed with people. By now my stomach was churning. I ran toward Gate 15 and pulled on the door. It was closed. I gestured frantically for the attention of the 3 or 4 staff stood at the check-in desk. One of them looked at me and shook his head. Through the windows of the Gate I could see the last of the passengers – literally 3 of them – climbing the boarding ladder. I knocked again on the door and the same member of staff who had shook his head opened the door. I quickly explained that it was my flight and I had to be on it:
“I’m sorry sir but you have been taken off the flight as a no-show”
I pleased that I could be at the plane in 15 seconds and urged him to let me on. He explained that it wasn’t as straightforward as that. I had been taken off the computer and there was simply nothing I could do. My stomach was doing summersaults. How could I have missed this flight given how well I had prepared; given the plans for the New Year. All sorts of ideas were fizzing through my head: what other airports can I use; money is no issue etc.
To the credit of the staff they picked up the phone and went straight through to the Captain. In that 20 or 20 seconds I walked over to the window and could see the plane a mere 10 meters away on the tarmac. I could almost see the whites of the Captains eyes.
The speakerphone blurted out: “ok send him down immediately”
I cannot begin to describe the relief. The Ryan Air staff were fantastic as they put me back on the flight. I boarded the plane with literally 2 minutes to departure. It was the most insane feeling of helplessness and utter joy separated by mere seconds. I boarded the plane beaming. My energy and cortisol levels were through the roof. There was no way I was sleeping on this plane.
I had arranged to meet the Siberian at 8pm but she was 30 minutes late of course. I had a quick glass of wine and espresso and waited for her to arrive. She was dressed in black tights, heels, black dress and coat. She looked great. We spent the evening walking around the square listening to the live music. We went for a more relaxed drink in an underground bar that had a really nice ambient feel. I started teasing her on her recent Instagram pictures where I suggested to her that one of her close friends obviously fancied her given the longing looks they exchanged on their stories. She giggled at the idea and purposefully didn’t deny it. The conversation danced between sex and I asked her what porn she liked. She bowled me over when she reluctantly and somewhat revealingly shared that she liked “rape” porn, where women are taken forcefully by men (more on this later).
It was also at this point that I asked her how old she was when she lost her virginity:
“I haven’t lost it, so tonight will be a first for me”
That was it. This leggy natural Siberian blonde 21 year old, an absolute token of femininity and cool cheek and shyness – was a virgin.
I smiled and appeared absolutely non-plussed as if this was no-big deal.
I ordered us another round before we made our way outside for the stroke of midnight. It was a brilliant experience as the fireworks and confetti filled the sky. It had been a great evening. By 1am we walked back to my hotel which was situated ten minutes’ walk away from the square. I was on the top floor of the hotel and we stood by my window enjoying the view of the city and the fireworks. Across the evening she had been carrying a gift bag and took this moment to give me my present – an assortment of little gifts and foods which was a lovely touch.
“Wait here”, I said, as I ran out of the room.
I returned with the best bottle of Champagne I could get and we opened it and toasted and kissed. She was already very horny and was making clear indications for bed. I resisted this by telling her I wanted to enjoy the moment with her. By this point I had undressed her to her bra and tights and stood behind her at the window. My hands stroking her thighs and making their way to her pussy.
She was soaking.
Before long I was on the bed with her and there was no question she was a virgin. I used my finger and thumb to gradually relax her (I simply could not get my dick inside her in her current virgin state). Several more minutes of this saw her writhing on my bed and I went for the entry. Slowly, inch by inch I was inside her. She was pulling away and obviously found it a little uncomfortable. But after 10 minutes or so we were fucking. I kept it pretty vanilla for her on her first time.
The night continued into the early hours and we eventually fell asleep. Mid-morning saw a repeat and the sex was by now a very different matter. I could enter her a lot easier and she was able to take it harder. She even loved my hands around her neck (see afore mentioned porn vids she likes) before I pulled out and came on her face.
The whole experience from a Daygame stop, boyfriend objection to a couple of return visits culminating in taking the virginity of a 21 year-old Siberian has been nothing short of an incredible experience for me. Sure, she’s a bit of a brat and still doles-out the bratty shit-tests and princess-me attitude when we speak in Instagram, but in person she is very different. I have been purposefully rationing my attention and I think this genuinely pisses her off because she regularly implies that I’m a narcissist or some other nonsense insult to provoke a reaction. Not happening darling!
I am back in Poland this week and will hopefully be seeing her.