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"Nothing's Going To Happen"... SUCK MY C**K
- By Baby Girl
- Published May 18, 2007
- Lay Reports
-
Rating:
Baby Girl
BabyGirl is a natural from Brighton/UK, he made a brief appearance in the seduction community and took the place by storm, he taught commercial bootcamps for a while and left the scene to help guys improve all parts of their lives, he set up a community forum to help push this idea.
I met this girl about 2 years ago through someone who worked for me.
She had sucked me off and in six years of relationships, was the only
girl who I have ever cheated on a girlfriend with. After the oral
excitement, I was a bit of a cunt and didn’t contact her, but that was
because I was in a relationship and felt really bad about what I had
done.
2 years later, I was having a coffee with my friend in Café Neros. A girl walked in, came past us and sat down.
Me to mate: Wow…. She’s really fit.
Mate: That’s L ******
Me: No it’s not…
Mate: Yes it is…
I yelled out “L *****”
She turned her head – It was her. I beckoned her over. I moved away from my table to an empty area of the café. I sat on the table top and pulled out a chair for her to sit down on. (Really dominant).
This girl obviously hated me because of how I treated her after she sucked me off… The thought passed through my mind for 0.042 seconds. I couldn’t give a toss…. The previous situation couldn’t be helped and with good game, pretty much any situation can be turned around.
We chatted about our mutual friend and what a pikey she was… I was telling her about how she used to come into the office and tell us she had the perfect tits (they were gross tits). And how her BF used to beat her up, and how she was the only girl I think it would be OK to hit.
She mentioned rude story about how she has asked to borrow some underwear over MSN… I calibrated and realised I could push things further, so I let her know that in the office we used to talk about her vagina…
BG: “We used to think her vagina was like the off-cuts from a butchers table at the end of a day… the stuff they won’t even put in dog food.”
Her laughing and looking around: Ssshhhhhhh
I was cracking up at my own jokes…
BG: And we used to say that her vagina was so putrid that you could actually see the smell. Like a green acrid gas.
The girl was laughing really fucking hard. As this was obviously going to be the high point of the interaction…
BG: Look… give me your number and next time you’re out in Brighton you can give me a call and I’ll take you for a drink. I gave her my phone.
Her: split second pause.
Me thinking “engage the logical brain… stop that cunt from thinking”
BG: Brighton’s wicked in the summer… next time you’re down we could have a drink on the front or something.
She gave me her my number and passed my phone back... I kept on talking to her as if nothing had happened.
I wouldn’t normally test the number by calling there and then, but because of the context, I thought I would be better safe than sorry. It was fine.
I gave her a slow kiss on the cheek (it was way too close to her neck for her liking, but who gives a fuck).
Now you take care of yourself Helen and hopefully I will see you soon.
Strong eye contact and then walk back to my table to join my mate.
I am James Bond. The game was on.
I was really fucking happy with this. I woke up steaming drunk from the night before and had lost the number of a really fit girl (couldn’t remember her name). I was even talking about her when I saw this new girl walk in. Now that I had her number, I had more fresh meat to work on during the week.
I text that night, she text back.
I called and chatted. The conversation was OK; she was a very funny girl, very intelligent, but we weren’t quite on the same wavelength. This was clearly because she was very wary of me. This girl was hot and I needed to find that commonality. I needed to get a connection.
I am like a pack of ferrets attacking from all angles… I will impress you in person, then I will smash you with phone game, I will get you on MSN and I will send you funny picture messages… I will connect to you on MySpace and convey a shit load more positive qualities online… I hammer so much, what MM’ers would call DHV up her arse, she would have trouble sitting down.
It’s like the rocks on the river bed in geography class… It’s attrition… I am wearing them down.
I got her email, so put her on my MSN and started having conversations with her over the web as well as on the phone.
She was still cold… at one point the conversation got pretty hairy and I thought I was losing her. In hindsight it was a stupid question, but at one point I asked her:
“what would you change about me if you had the chance?”
Her: Well sometimes, I just don’t know what’s going to come out of your mouth.
I said everyone says that when they first get to know me. She said that sometimes it puts her on edge.
The conversation became pretty awkward.
I knew I shouldn’t be buying into this shit test, but I couldn’t help but try to justify my behaviour. I was failing the test.
She was saying things like:
“You are really cool and funny… BUT…”
And the “BUT’s” are what was clearly on her mind. I had opened up a whole can of worms.
I steered the convo off me and chatted about working out and then got off MSN. Some damage had definitely been done here.
Shit shit shit – I HATE WASTED FANNY.
I text her, nothing back… I called her, nothing back. I called her the next day and she picked up. She was fine on the phone, but there wasn’t much flow. She told me she had almost got herself a job and that her agent had called her and said she would be getting a call from the Director of this company to make an offer to her.
Bingo…
I worked in recruitment for four years, so I know all about negotiation and getting the best out of companies at offer stage. I sprang into action. For 20 mins, I told her the best techniques and tips to get the best out of a potential employer. I had her taking notes. I even offered to call her agent on her behalf. The next day I followed this up with an email outlining everything I had spoken to her about. I had added some huge value here…
It was back on… back on in a big way.
I had shown such intelligence and also done her a huge favour here. She was definitely going to reward this favour at a later date.
From then on, every call was an absolute pleasure. She really started making the effort. We got on really well. I sent her crazy MMS messages. I sent her to my MySpace page. I started getting sexual with her on the phone… I kept asking her to come back to Brighton. She said she would call me when she did.
I was painting my bedroom wall on a Saturday afternoon when my phone rang. It was her.
Me: Where are you?
Her: I am at Churchill Square.
Me: Where are you going?
Her: Congleton Road.
Me: Oh that’s miles away… I’ll come and get you and give you a lift… it would be great to see you.
Her: No… it’s OK, I’ll walk.
Me: Don’t be silly… I am a few mins away, it’s cool.
Her: Well if you’re sure.
I got in my car, and picked her up… She was looking fit.
Me: You must come and see my house quickly… I’ve just done it up.
Her: OK.
Back at mine, I showed her around every room, quickly reeling off all the work we had done to it. She was clearly impressed. I left my bedroom till last.
Although she shit tested me, she clearly liked my remote control lights and my new black plasma screen TV.
No chairs, so we sat on the bed.
The moment we walked into my bedroom, the shit tests came. It was quite funny because we were just talking (I had my legs wrapped round her) and she couldn’t find a way to integrate shit tests into the conversation. So she had to keep blurting them out. We were talking about furniture and she would blurt out
“Nothing’s going to happen now”.
And then about her plans for the night and:
“We are not sleeping together”
Everything about this girl was telling me she was interested, except for her words… Guess what I was listening to? Her actions. The shit tests were so easy they were more like fart tests… not even worth the steam off my piss… in one ear and straight out the other.
Silly girl.
It wasn’t long before we were kissing. I pulled her down on top of me. She could feel my erection through my shorts… The kissing intensified.
Her: I have to go in a minute.
Me (as if overcome with sexual lust): No worries… I’ll drop you back in a bit.
Carried on kissing. Pulling her down on top of me. Pushing my hard-on up into her hip. My hands were everywhere. Gripping her body hard and allowing her to feel my strength.
Everytime I went to undo her bra, she stopped me. I used my “weak hands” technique. She would reach up and grab my hand and then pull it back down. I would give small resistance, but let her do it. I did this three maybe four times and each time, keep kissing. Keep allowing myself to be taken more and more away with the moment. Fifth time… compliance – the bra came off and she was broken.
I undid my own shorts and pulled them down… I guided her hand down and she started pulling me off.
• 2 mins later she had my dick in her mouth.
• 5 mins later I was coming in her mouth.
• 10 mins later I was giving her a lift to her friends.
• 20 mins later I was writing the field report.
Life is good when you’ve got good game.
Keys to this PU:
Good phone game.
Helping her in her life.
Dominance.
Extraction to sex location.
Being the sexual guy.
Weak hands technique.
Source: http://www.thelss.com/forum/index.php?topic=8133.0
2 years later, I was having a coffee with my friend in Café Neros. A girl walked in, came past us and sat down.
Me to mate: Wow…. She’s really fit.
Mate: That’s L ******
Me: No it’s not…
Mate: Yes it is…
I yelled out “L *****”
She turned her head – It was her. I beckoned her over. I moved away from my table to an empty area of the café. I sat on the table top and pulled out a chair for her to sit down on. (Really dominant).
This girl obviously hated me because of how I treated her after she sucked me off… The thought passed through my mind for 0.042 seconds. I couldn’t give a toss…. The previous situation couldn’t be helped and with good game, pretty much any situation can be turned around.
We chatted about our mutual friend and what a pikey she was… I was telling her about how she used to come into the office and tell us she had the perfect tits (they were gross tits). And how her BF used to beat her up, and how she was the only girl I think it would be OK to hit.
She mentioned rude story about how she has asked to borrow some underwear over MSN… I calibrated and realised I could push things further, so I let her know that in the office we used to talk about her vagina…
BG: “We used to think her vagina was like the off-cuts from a butchers table at the end of a day… the stuff they won’t even put in dog food.”
Her laughing and looking around: Ssshhhhhhh
I was cracking up at my own jokes…
BG: And we used to say that her vagina was so putrid that you could actually see the smell. Like a green acrid gas.
The girl was laughing really fucking hard. As this was obviously going to be the high point of the interaction…
BG: Look… give me your number and next time you’re out in Brighton you can give me a call and I’ll take you for a drink. I gave her my phone.
Her: split second pause.
Me thinking “engage the logical brain… stop that cunt from thinking”
BG: Brighton’s wicked in the summer… next time you’re down we could have a drink on the front or something.
She gave me her my number and passed my phone back... I kept on talking to her as if nothing had happened.
I wouldn’t normally test the number by calling there and then, but because of the context, I thought I would be better safe than sorry. It was fine.
I gave her a slow kiss on the cheek (it was way too close to her neck for her liking, but who gives a fuck).
Now you take care of yourself Helen and hopefully I will see you soon.
Strong eye contact and then walk back to my table to join my mate.
I am James Bond. The game was on.
I was really fucking happy with this. I woke up steaming drunk from the night before and had lost the number of a really fit girl (couldn’t remember her name). I was even talking about her when I saw this new girl walk in. Now that I had her number, I had more fresh meat to work on during the week.
I text that night, she text back.
I called and chatted. The conversation was OK; she was a very funny girl, very intelligent, but we weren’t quite on the same wavelength. This was clearly because she was very wary of me. This girl was hot and I needed to find that commonality. I needed to get a connection.
I am like a pack of ferrets attacking from all angles… I will impress you in person, then I will smash you with phone game, I will get you on MSN and I will send you funny picture messages… I will connect to you on MySpace and convey a shit load more positive qualities online… I hammer so much, what MM’ers would call DHV up her arse, she would have trouble sitting down.
It’s like the rocks on the river bed in geography class… It’s attrition… I am wearing them down.
I got her email, so put her on my MSN and started having conversations with her over the web as well as on the phone.
She was still cold… at one point the conversation got pretty hairy and I thought I was losing her. In hindsight it was a stupid question, but at one point I asked her:
“what would you change about me if you had the chance?”
Her: Well sometimes, I just don’t know what’s going to come out of your mouth.
I said everyone says that when they first get to know me. She said that sometimes it puts her on edge.
The conversation became pretty awkward.
I knew I shouldn’t be buying into this shit test, but I couldn’t help but try to justify my behaviour. I was failing the test.
She was saying things like:
“You are really cool and funny… BUT…”
And the “BUT’s” are what was clearly on her mind. I had opened up a whole can of worms.
I steered the convo off me and chatted about working out and then got off MSN. Some damage had definitely been done here.
Shit shit shit – I HATE WASTED FANNY.
I text her, nothing back… I called her, nothing back. I called her the next day and she picked up. She was fine on the phone, but there wasn’t much flow. She told me she had almost got herself a job and that her agent had called her and said she would be getting a call from the Director of this company to make an offer to her.
Bingo…
I worked in recruitment for four years, so I know all about negotiation and getting the best out of companies at offer stage. I sprang into action. For 20 mins, I told her the best techniques and tips to get the best out of a potential employer. I had her taking notes. I even offered to call her agent on her behalf. The next day I followed this up with an email outlining everything I had spoken to her about. I had added some huge value here…
It was back on… back on in a big way.
I had shown such intelligence and also done her a huge favour here. She was definitely going to reward this favour at a later date.
From then on, every call was an absolute pleasure. She really started making the effort. We got on really well. I sent her crazy MMS messages. I sent her to my MySpace page. I started getting sexual with her on the phone… I kept asking her to come back to Brighton. She said she would call me when she did.
I was painting my bedroom wall on a Saturday afternoon when my phone rang. It was her.
Me: Where are you?
Her: I am at Churchill Square.
Me: Where are you going?
Her: Congleton Road.
Me: Oh that’s miles away… I’ll come and get you and give you a lift… it would be great to see you.
Her: No… it’s OK, I’ll walk.
Me: Don’t be silly… I am a few mins away, it’s cool.
Her: Well if you’re sure.
I got in my car, and picked her up… She was looking fit.
Me: You must come and see my house quickly… I’ve just done it up.
Her: OK.
Back at mine, I showed her around every room, quickly reeling off all the work we had done to it. She was clearly impressed. I left my bedroom till last.
Although she shit tested me, she clearly liked my remote control lights and my new black plasma screen TV.
No chairs, so we sat on the bed.
The moment we walked into my bedroom, the shit tests came. It was quite funny because we were just talking (I had my legs wrapped round her) and she couldn’t find a way to integrate shit tests into the conversation. So she had to keep blurting them out. We were talking about furniture and she would blurt out
“Nothing’s going to happen now”.
And then about her plans for the night and:
“We are not sleeping together”
Everything about this girl was telling me she was interested, except for her words… Guess what I was listening to? Her actions. The shit tests were so easy they were more like fart tests… not even worth the steam off my piss… in one ear and straight out the other.
Silly girl.
It wasn’t long before we were kissing. I pulled her down on top of me. She could feel my erection through my shorts… The kissing intensified.
Her: I have to go in a minute.
Me (as if overcome with sexual lust): No worries… I’ll drop you back in a bit.
Carried on kissing. Pulling her down on top of me. Pushing my hard-on up into her hip. My hands were everywhere. Gripping her body hard and allowing her to feel my strength.
Everytime I went to undo her bra, she stopped me. I used my “weak hands” technique. She would reach up and grab my hand and then pull it back down. I would give small resistance, but let her do it. I did this three maybe four times and each time, keep kissing. Keep allowing myself to be taken more and more away with the moment. Fifth time… compliance – the bra came off and she was broken.
I undid my own shorts and pulled them down… I guided her hand down and she started pulling me off.
• 2 mins later she had my dick in her mouth.
• 5 mins later I was coming in her mouth.
• 10 mins later I was giving her a lift to her friends.
• 20 mins later I was writing the field report.
Life is good when you’ve got good game.
Keys to this PU:
Good phone game.
Helping her in her life.
Dominance.
Extraction to sex location.
Being the sexual guy.
Weak hands technique.
Source: http://www.thelss.com/forum/index.php?topic=8133.0
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1 Response to ""Nothing's Going To Happen"... SUCK MY C**K"
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said this on 18 Oct 2008 8:16:34 PM UTC
i love it! awesome recovery from the original situation and a well written piece.
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