I know it’s weird, but I turn twenty next month and I just want to get it overheen with.” “I can help you with that problem,” I said, smiling.

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This story’s from Roosh V, international allurement blogger and publisher of country-specific how-to-get-laid books. See my review of Roosh’s How to Vreesachtig Colombia.

This story comes from his latest book, 30 Bangs:

(purchasing through that verbinding supports Expat Chronicles)

Te Medellin there’s a club called Babylon that has ladies night every Thursday. The very first fifty women drink for free. I’d roll ter around Ten:30 to be greeted by a few dozen chicks already gyrating. The only problem wasgoed that they were all sitting. A good budge wasgoed simply to ask if I could sit with them, but zometeen it got tougher because their dude friends would arrive and form an impenetrable force field.

One night I wasgoed with a wingman who quickly got te with a chick, leaving mij solo. I witnessed three youthfull women dancing around a table. One wasgoed nice and petite. The smaller a female’s figure, the fatter my manhood looks and the more powerful I feel te bloemperk, spil if I’m raping a teenage damsel.

I moved next to them. Petiteski talent mij a quick glance, then looked at hier friends and laughed.

“You guys look like you speak Spanish,” I said. The petite one spinned hier eyes and said, “Well, duh.”

Not only did she speak English, she had a stiff take hold of of American waterslang. Hier sassiness meant I could ramp up the taunting and cockiness.

Wij chatted for a bit and danced, little touching. She took frequent cracks to whisper te hier friends’ ears.

After thirty minutes of dancing, I asked if she wished to step outside for some air. She agreed and wij had a joy conversation about how she wasgoed too youthful for mij, otherwise I would have gone for hier. She wasgoed Nineteen. She taunted mij about how old I wasgoed. Touches were exchanged and hier stares became longer and more constant.

Wij went back inwards and danced some more. I touched hier bod and wasgoed ready to go for the smooch, but abruptly hier friend dreamed to leave. I suggested to escort them to a cab, where I planned to persuade my damsel to ditch hier friends and go back inwards with mij. The project failed and all I got wasgoed hier number.

Youthful Colombian damsels are enormously flaky, so I wasn’t certain I’d see hier again. But after one phone call she agreed to a date. From the embark she wasgoed touching mij and I moved my chair closer so our gams were ter onveranderlijk voeling.

“How much longer are you staying here?” she asked.

I made my stir within minutes. Inbetween smooches, she told mij how much it sucked that I have to leave since I wasgoed “cool.”

Unlike 99% of South American women, she wasgoed living on hier own with roommates while attending collegium. After the date I suggested to take hier huis te a taxi. Then I weaseled my way up using the bathroom excuse. She wouldn’t let mij do anything te hier slagroom so I left after twenty minutes.

That weekend the project wasgoed for hier to cook ter my kitchen before wij went out for drinks. She came an hour late and I ended up cooking because she hadn’t gone grocery shopping. I talent hier shit and she promised to make it up to mij. After dinner she asked if she could spend the night.

“Yeah, the sofa is truly comfy. You can crash there.” She called mij an asshole.

Wij went to a club and got dirty on the dance floor. She said, “I like you.” I said the Spanish omschrijving of “ditto” to maintain the masturbate vibe. She called mij an asshole again, then grabbed mij and attacked my face with hier big lips. To an outside observer, our interaction wasgoed one of a youthfull dame attempting to win the affection of an experienced older man. The less affection I showcased, the stiffer she attempted.

After a few drinks I klapper hier with “Let’s go,” and wij took a cab back to my place. The clothes came off, but she abruptly stopped and said, “My mind says yes, but I can’t.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Wij can just sleep.”

Ten minutes zometeen she wasgoed back on top of mij.

Ultimately it came out: “I’m a cherry!”

“I’m a cherry! I know it’s weird, but I turn twenty next month and I just want to get it overheen with.”

“I can help you with that problem,” I said, smiling.

I eased my dick into hier and she screamed noisy enough for people te the hills to hear. For what seemed to be an hour, I worked my jizz-shotgun te an eighth of an inch at a time, eventually growing impatient and pouring lubricant all overheen hier vagina. She wasgoed so tense and ter so much ache that I felt bad for hier, but I kept going until she stopped mij, incapable to take any more. I never got it ter more than halfway.

Ter the middle of the night I woke up to wank off on the toilet, skeeting all overheen the wall.

The next morning, I busted out with even more oil and got it te enough so that wij were having what resembled hook-up. She squirmed and yelped while I wasgoed telling things like “You’re doing fine!” and “I’m almost there!” I eventually blasted and collapsed next to hier. I eyed hier a duo times after that, but she always had an excuse for why she couldn’t have hookup. I’m pretty sure I ruined hier. Poor dame.

This story comes from his latest book, 30 Bangs:

(purchasing through that listig supports Expat Chronicles)

To have similar adventures to Roosh, see luxury apartments te Medellin.

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