Zardoz is a member of the mASF forum. Acronyms used in this article can be looked up on the acronyms page. To get involved in discussions like this, you can join the mASF discussion forum at fastseduction.com/discussion.
Original discussion thread: http://fastseduction.com/discussion/fs?action=9&boardid=2&read=82426&fid=23
Sex…It’s oh so important, isn’t it? I know I love it. Without readily available intercourse, with masturbation as an act of self loathing instead of sweet release…then yes, sex is important. For those who do get laid, it’s not so much the sex that you cherish, but the adventure, power and assurance of manhood. Women, to retain their personal power, utilize the same push/pull tactics and aloofness that male seducers employ; though men often seek unconditional submissiveness and affection, wrapped in self-confidence. Mostly, we want to be desired.
Unfortunately displaying emotional need lowers our apparent status as a highly sexed person. A man that gets laid does not desire sex…he desires power, but careful--ambition should be a personality trait, not a decision. It’s a good thing we’re learning how to re-wire personalities.
Power doesn’t chase--it attracts-however power is capable of assimilating other energies for its own growth. If you must chase a lover, assimilate them into your sphere of power, make them part of you…it’s harder to create attraction by entering another’s sphere. Having a large sphere of power, or “influence»,” is pretty sweet.
I strut into the venue with an air of authority. Note, when opening a door, you never know what’s on the other side. In this case it was a small town café, and a beautiful 18 year old blonde, with perfect almond blue eyes. We head straight at each other, I take five slow steps, I don’t think, I speak:
Girls love these jousts; I always test, I’m a sand box full of toys and willing to share. If she has no imagination, I move on. Some will open up and some won’t, they may not find you attractive…yet. In this case, it was on from the start, which means physically at least, I’m her type. Sub-communicating attraction is simple: be attracted and let your eyes explain all.
She works at the café, a hired gun, and the great thing about hired guns is they’re usually bored, tired, and willing to flirt. Work girls are just like girls anywhere else, and the whole notion of, “she’s paid to be nice,” is utter bullshit. If she’s nice to me, it’s because she’s down. Take your time --you know where they work.
As I wander the venue, to the bathroom, the store across the hall, etc, she tracks me, like I’m a golden bunny in a field of candy: Intriguing. I don’t take her number yet, even though I could have, like this, “What’s your number.” Not a question, assume. I got two numbers that week already, and though beautiful, she seems really young—maybe even in high school. My Venezuelan roommate, a natural, say’s, “If it’s not you it’s some other fuckin loser man, better to be you!”
That night we randomly meet in a casino lobby, These random encounters led to pillow talk about fate, and ESP. I get the metaphysical talk from a few girls, they think I’m psychic, but I guess we all sort of are. It’s called “using all your senses.” I love it. Creativity is a sense.
She’s 18, so in this province you can’t gamble or drink at that age. I call her, “coffee girl,” a slight tease, and I bust on her age. She says, “Age doesn’t matter, it’s all about experience.” Fair enough. She invites me to visit her at work--I demand free specialty drinks in return for my precious time and company, of course.
Saturday passes, I flake. It’s a small town, I know where she works, and she’s hooked. Flaking on girls--do it. Like, I’m not going to drop everything and come hang out where you work just because you’re cute. I’m busy. Please come to my reality, with my terms. You’re welcome to share yours later. What a prick I am.
Our first makeout: I’m at the StarBucks counter when she enters by chance and lines up directly behind me. I actually got nervous here, cause she looked great, so I started chatting up the barista guy…something random about coffee, just to get my state up…and it worked! I ignore her until I order my Americano, then turn, smile, and say, “Oh…you again eh!?” I’m suspicious. I give a high five. “Come sit with me.” I say. And she does, a happy girl.
“I’m going to the beach, you should walk with me.” I offer, and off we go. In day pick-up, make it an adventure, move from place to place. I put out my arm and she links up, we walk like this to the beach. By putting out my arm she makes the choice to take it: I always give them a choice, but it’s a choice without asking. At the beach I make her lay on the grass and we watch the clouds, playing with our imaginations, picking out different animals, things and whatnot. Of course I bust on her answers “Yeah right, you see your dad, I’m outta here!” Can’t be too sweet.
I ask if she’s a good hugger, then we hug, “Mmmm, 4 out of 10.” So is she a good kisser…we kiss, and then we kiss again, and I touch her tits. They’re small, but nice…better than fake ones…I think. If I played with fake ones I wouldn’t know. Haven’t touched many…fake ones.
I lead her to Walmart—the giant metropolis of fun. We multi-department kiss, starting with the toy section. She coos politely, “Are we going to make out in every corner of Walmart?” Yes, yes we are. I always bring sex to the adventure; “I’m just a horny guy!” It’s the best answer, really.
I love handjobs. At nightfall we climb the local lookout point to gaze upon the city lights. It’s private and public, so I pull out my cock, start whackin, and we pleasure each other to the full moon, with a quiet mountain wind blowing through our hair. She says something about, “never doing this sort of thing before.” I say nothing, but let her know she’s appreciated. She loved it.
I’m not in a rush for sex; I’d rather have a good time with a woman over a short period better than a brief one. If that sounds confusing, it is. I’m always looking for a keeper. Some women are wild and if you don’t escalate to sex quickly it won’t come at all. They’ll do it for you, or find someone else. You advertise bad boy status, some women crave that drama. I find most want a long winded romance; I can dig that too, but not too long.
Our third date we had sex in a tent in my Mothers backyard. Look…I have no job, I’m 5’8”, skinny, pale, with crooked teeth, and I live in a tent in my mom’s backyard. If I can do this, you can. Develop your senses with social practice.
Sex is the reward for romance. Romance doesn’t have to be all flowers and backrubs and dry humping; romance could be a drunken bar fight, poetry, or a, “lip tasting,” competition in Walmart. The key to romance is imagination, use the world as your sandbox, do the unusual, the unexpected. Once you have sex readily available in your life, you’ll find romance fun, because there’s no pressure to put your dick in her. Look at Fabio, he seems happy. Once you get off, she’ll be there, but will she come back? The sex should be good, but if she’s a phony with no real passion…next!
Bring them into your awesome reality. Mine was that I was too lazy to get her number at work. I walked away from this girl, flaked on her, disqualified her, and the more I pulled away the more she chased. From her point of view--she seduced me, in turn I felt desired and powerful. I could have closed the deal much earlier, but it wouldn’t have been so much fun. She’s a really cool chick; she’s a singer, so she sings me to sleep! I hope this was helpful to you guys.
“Oh! So are you like, the guardian of the bathroom key?” My eyes roll with a dismissive smirk, hands on hips, challenging smile.
