mASF post by "GoneSavage"
posted on: mASF forum: Field Reports Discussion, August 8, 2005Back in the USA now. I was in Montreal for one month, having left on the 11th
of August. As a measure of how incredible I found the city, consider that the
most time I had spent on the PUA-Tour in any other city was one week. But of
course, I had a travel deadline in Montreal, so I had to keep moving toward
that destination. It’s also interesting to note that I never closed in Montreal
until the tenth day (LRx3). Then things kind of exploded for me. I hope to
get all the stories recorded soon, as they are all exceptional and exciting.
So for my last day, I treated myself to the pleasure of two women (though not
at the same time): HBfashiondesign and HBdaycare. The rendezvous with
HBfashiondesign was one of the most thrilling and exhilarating encounters on my
sexual resume. Damn hot.
Wednesday she took me out for lunch and then suggested we go to the
Planetarium. She bought our tickets and on the way in she says, “I intend to
be touched.” Just like that. Of course, I had been fingering her earlier at
the park, and I knew she was still worked up. We’re in the theater with like
ten field trip groups—hundreds of little kids filling the place. There’s a
small section of other visitors. But by no means are we secluded. We’ve got
about four seats to our left and to our right that are empty. Couples are at
both ends of our isle. No one is directly in front of us. No one is directly
behind us, but the isle is occupied two seats down diagonally.
The show starts and it is not long until ours does too. I’m sure it’s no
coincidence that she’s wearing a skirt. I’m touching her and she’s got her
knees on the seats in front of us. She’s squirming madly. I maintain my
composure and let her lose control. She says, “This is too much, you have to
stop teasing me. I want you in me so bad.” Hmmm…
I keep her arousal high and she’s got my cock out and is stroking it hard. She
says, “This is too much. I just want to climb on top of you. Is there any way
to do this?” I tell her that I don’t think so. She looks disappointed. But
I’m thinking. Bathroom? Now? Too obvious. Too much of a disturbance. Maybe
after the show? It will be swarmed with kids. We’re still working each other
heavily. “I want you now. I don’t care who sees us.”
In a slight commotion, I get her to position her right leg behind me on my
seat. We have an unmoving arm-rest to deal with. I pull her left leg on top
of me and against my chest. Her knee is basically at my chin. She’s got her
arms around me and we’re facing each other, but we have just enough mobility to
face foreword when necessary. After putting a condom on, I pull her panties
to the side and I slide in. Really fucking exciting.
Don’t know the last time you’ve been to a Planetarium, but it’s a lot more
risky than a typical theater. First of all, it’s not always completely dark;
images are projected illuminating the room for brief periods. Second, the
ceiling-screen is a curved dome, so the entire audience could be looking right
over your head if the narrator draws attention to that area. And here we are
fucking under the stars. And I keep up this erotic embrace for the entire
show. Hitting it hard with lots of movement during the darkest moments.
Playing it slow and sensual when the room is more lit. Was anyone aware?
Probably. I know people were giving us looks when we walked out. I think we
both avoided eye-contact with folks until we got outside where we shared a good
laugh and held each other tight.
Anyway, that was our second and (unfortunately) our last fuck. Pretty intense
way to go. So how did it all start with HBfashiondesign?
This is her story. It’s an interesting tale that involves a foolish
misinterpretation, dramatic let’s-just-befriending, and larger-than-life frame
control. And in the end, I get the girl…wrapped around my finger. Overall,
the dominant theme and key to this lay is reframing….
Note: This LR is dense with actual email correspondence from HBfashiondesign.
Oh yeah… One more thing that I became aware of in Montreal (especially from
hanging with Papi Chulo, KitKatMan, Tarzan, AtoZ, and Hyunghu) is that I have
become quite effective at conveying what it is that I do. Right now, I’m pretty
good at explaining and teaching my mindsets, beliefs, and techniques. It’s
good fun. In fact, as a rare gesture, I’ll meet up with and give a tight
infield workshop to anyone able to put new tires on the purple-n-green love
machine. That’s all I need to keep moving. I’m about to be in a dire
situation as my tires are as bald as HBfashiondesign’s muff. Haha. Anyway,
email me offlist….
I met her on July 19th at Club Loft. For some reason this club has a huge draw
on Tuesdays. Mostly what I remember about the place is that it was the hottest
club I had ever been to (temperature-wise) with no AC and I was absolutely
drenched with sweat. Like everyone else in the place. There was a rooftop
terrace and a huge line of people waiting to get to the top. The other thing
that I remember is that my game was going nowhere in the lower level. Loud,
bad music, way too hot. Very francophone crowd that would sooner walk away than
even attempt to speak English with me. So I get in line to go to the terrace
where it will be cooler and quieter and hopefully communication will go
further.
She was in a group consisting of three other women. All were remarkably
attractive. They had their own table and a pitcher of beer. They looked like
a group of close friends happily making their own fun. I pull up a chair and
join them at their table. They’re shocked. I immediately start talking about
my impression of the club and of Montreal.
I get the ‘where are you from’ stuff out of the way and I tell them that I’ve
been given my own Canadian province to populate. Then I start a
future-projection role-playing scenario in which I tell them the positions that
I need filled and we help each other determine who’s right for each. So the
girl who knows the most about the city is my tour guide. The girl who responds
the most when I ask what words are in French becomes my French teacher. The
third girl is my cook. I tell her that I expect more than maple syrup,
Canadian bacon, and putine and I tell her all the cuisines she must master.
I’ve saved my target for last. She’s not only the most beautiful, but she also
has the most dominant energy of the group. We could match wits all night, for
real. But largely, until now, I have been ignoring her and not acknowledging
her questions and interjections while I talked with the other girls. I wanted
to make them laugh and get them to be comfortable and accepting of my presence.
Done.
So now I have the attention of primarily my girl and the second-hottest girl.
The second girl is quite flirty. My girl tells me that this one is drunk. And
to not mess with her. I shake my head in agreement. I compliment my girl’s
leadership and protective qualities. I then assign her as my ‘spiritual
advisor’ and I describe how she is going to read my horoscope daily, be my
motivation coach, and overwhelm me with positivism and optimism. I tell her
that I need her to be open, adventurous, intelligent, and trustworthy. I
quickly give her a version of the trust test, framed as screening her for
trustworthiness.
By now, the friends want to go dance. She wants to go with the friends. We’re
all standing and we’re directly in front of each other now. I say, “It was fun
messing around with your friends and sharing laughs with them, but to get to
know you was the reason I came and sat down. I found you attractive, and now I
see that you are more than just a pretty face. I have a feeling that if we
spent time together one-on-one we would totally ‘click’ and who knows how we
might enhance each other’s lives.”
And I go into my ‘cell-phone doesn’t work here’ close. Neither of us has a pen
for her to take my email. The friends claim not to have pens and they are
nagging her to dance. She says, “Just remember my phone number.” Skeptically,
I tell her that there is no way I’m going to remember it, but I will try
because I know that she will benefit so much by hanging out with me again.
They head off downstairs. I find someone with a pen and write down the number
I’ve been repeating. Funny thing, I did actually memorize the number. Of all
the girls I dealt with in Montreal, this is the only number I had memorized,
and it’s still stuck in my head. Sneaky girl.
So the next day, I call her from the Marriott and leave a message telling her
that I’m easier to keep in touch with by email and I leave my email address. I
wait two days before I call again, as she has not written. I return to the
Marriott (found a phone I use to make free local calls) and I call the number
and my girl’s not there, but I get her roommate on the phone….
This is intense. The roommate sounds hella cute. And she’s working as an
intern designing underwear! How fun. I kept talking to the roommate and I was
playing heavy on themes of once in a lifetime opportunities and seizing the
moment, etc, etc. I’m trying to get this girl to come out and meet me that
night, blind-date style. I tell a story of perfect lovers who leave things up
to ‘fate’ to meet again and when they finally do, they don’t recognize each
other. We’re given one chance and that we have to take advantage, NOW. Isn’t
it exciting…come meet me. Anyway, she lives so far away, etc etc. I get her
to agree to meet me the next day after work.
Man, this girl sounded so sweet. Two nineteen year old roommates. What am I
to do? I’m thinking that, if nothing else, I have introduced a little
competition. And what do you know, that night the initial girl sends me an
email. So, it looks like she did get the earlier message after all when I left
my email address. Here it is:
“I heard you met [my roommate] tonight. It's really strange that you connected
with her as well. I can understand though because she's pretty much at the same
level as I am. I must warn you though….I'm not afraid of people, not even of
you. I must admit that we don't meet a lot of people of your kind. So, like I
said the night we met, I trust people, I trust you, but if you mess with me or
[my roommate], I will be so mad you can't imagine. Take care of her, don't mess
with her.....I love her. I'm sorry to tell you that so early, but I want to be
clear. My friends didn't see right through you that night and they told me to
be careful…so as I like my friends and myself, I will be on my guard just a
little bit. I have no problem meeting you...as long as you’re polite, friendly
and deep. I'm not in a really good place right now, so maybe that's why we
connected. You see, I felt what you had to give me, and if you can help me just
to let go....that would be great. I won’t tell you more because I'm tired, like
always, and I need to get some rest. I work tomorrow till 10 pm, and then, as
soon as I’m finished, I will be getting home where you can call me. I will
probably be there around 11 pm or 11.30 pm. So call me if you're interested.
By the way, I'm pretty impressed that you remembered my phone number…really
impressed!”
So…they were talking about me. Interest now seems high with both. The email
is pretty revealing. The next day, Friday, was my triple-lay day (LRx3: Trois
beautées en une seule journée), which took some careful orchestrating, so I
flaked on meeting the roommate. That night I call and I get the original girl
on the phone. Check this out…it turns out that they were BOTH at the meeting
spot, set to see me. Hmmm…. Well, I keep chatting with this girl and we set up
a time to meet the next night. But again, we set up a time and place that I
would be meeting them BOTH. Interesting.
Well, I’m an asshole. I flake AGAIN. I actually tried to make it, but I was
driving downtown on a Saturday night and I never anticipated so much traffic.
I did show up, but I was like forty minutes late. Didn’t see them, although
there is some confusion as to whether we even came to the same spot. Oh well.
I go off and do my thing-thing, and when I check my email in the morning, I
read this:
“You poor guy, you missed us twice in two days...fate is against you. Ok, its
2:06 in the morning...we are at the Marriot hotel, we are waiting down stairs.
I hope you get the message tonight. We need your last name to get to your room.
Leave us your room number so we can get in touch.”
Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What might have happened if I had gotten
this email? Why are they BOTH so determined to meet? (It’s funny that they
assume I stay at the Marriott because I call from there.) How were they able
to send an email from the hotel? What did they do between the time we were set
to meet and 2am? How long did they wait in the hotel lobby for me? How can I
turn this around after flaking TWICE? What’s next?
To be continued… Trust me, it gets better. I will post PART 2 when I get
twenty or so unique responders….
Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage
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