In Poland, a high percentage of girls are in existing relationships. If you take a snapshot of a Polish club on any Friday night, around half of the girls will have a boyfriend. That wouldn’t be a problem if they were prone to infidelity like Western women, but unfortunately Polish girls are maniacally faithful to their “potato” boyfriends. Here’s what usually happens:
- I approach a Polish girl. Things are going great and then she tells me she has a boyfriend about fifteen minutes into the conversation.
- She says that I’m better than the boyfriend, and starts with the compliments about how I’m handsome, confident, and strong. Yes, they really say those things.
- I ask if she wants to have sex with me. She says yes.
- I stick with her for a couple more hours under the assumption that I have a decent chance of getting her back to my crib.
- She ditches me at the end of the night to fuck her boyfriend’s brains out while I’m stuck with nothing but my hand.
Polish girls are very convincing about making me think I have a shot. I remember one case where the girl said she’s “about to” break up with her boyfriend. I stuck with her all night and got nothing in the end. They want to experience the good feelings of talking to a cool foreigner, but not the guilty feelings of cheating.
Recently I went out on a Tuesday night to an club that, while cheesy and filled with sausage, was the only place in town that had a crowd. I settled in a spot next to the dance floor and approached a girl who was with her two girlfriends. She was overeager to chat, saying that she never meets foreign guys. After ten minutes she said, “I’ll be right back.” This is usually code for, “I don’t like you,” but she came back promptly and we settled into a flirty conversation. Her name was Anna.
It didn’t take long for the boyfriend drop to come. Then it played out like so many times in the past: she complimented me, touched me, and compared me favorably to him. Whenever I was on the verge of gathering enough strength to walk away, she’d do something intimate like hold my hand or get close to my face, as if she was doing just enough so I wouldn’t leave. It was hard to resist her feminine charm.
Anna’s two friends came back to collect her, thinking I was the typical club douche bag. While they had a conference discussing my merits, I thought back to all the nights I was tricked by a girl who only wanted the validation of being desired by a man other than her boyfriend. It was turning out to be another night where I’d get nothing.
I glanced over to one of Anna’s friends, who was slightly cuter. She was wearing black four-inch heels and a cocktail dress that left little to the imagination. Her ultra-petite figure made her look about 16 years old. She gave me a warm look after Anna introduced us. I asked her how she knew Anna, but she responded with a confused look on her face.
“Kasia doesn’t speak English,” Anna said.
I used Anna as a translator, finding out that Kasia was a 21-year-old student who lived in the suburbs. She spoke fluent German.
Every seduction must have a bold move where you announce through you words or actions that your intentions are sexual in nature. Sometimes that comes right away if you use a direct opening line. Sometimes it’s when you go for a kiss. Sometimes it comes at the very end of the night when you try to get her back to your place. Timing alone determines if your bold move is perceived as creepy or sexy, which is why it’s best to push it back until you’re sure the attraction is built. With Anna and Kasia, I decided to make an early bold move. Otherwise I was at risk of entertaining both of them all night long without getting anything in return.
I put my arm around the girls, let out a smirk, and said, “I would love to be with both of you tonight. How about we walk to my apartment, have a few drinks, listen to some good music, and make love?” I took a page out of the Vicky Cristina Barcelona playbook.
Anna giggled and then translated for Kasia, who smiled and reciprocated my half-hug. Anna then said something I’ve heard many times before: “I want to, but I have a boyfriend.”
I used Anna as a translator for the next fifteen minutes, building up as much rapport with Kasia as possible, until it was time to complete the switch. I looked at Anna and said, “You know you’re my first choice, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are the first girl tonight that I liked, but you have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but we can still talk,” she said. She grabbed my hand. Kasia pretended not to be looking.
“But that’s not fair to Kasia. She’s single and doesn’t have anyone to talk to. And I’m single, too. It only makes sense that I try to kiss your friend.”
She looked upset, but my logic was sound. Disagreeing would have been like spitting on Kasia’s face. “Good luck,” she said. I had her reluctant blessing.
I grabbed Kasia and took her to the dance floor. We kissed quickly. After dancing for a little longer than I would’ve liked, we sat down in a booth and tried to have a conversation. It was like two 6-year-olds communicating . Thankfully she could understand more than she could speak, so I kept talking about whatever I could think of, like I was reading from an invisible book. She’d listen, smile, and we’d kiss every few minutes. She had never met an American man before.
I told her I wanted to take her home. “No sex,” she said, a phrase that she could pronounce very clearly. I made the universal sign for sleep, telling her that I was tired anyway. It took about twenty minutes to get her to understand that just because she came to my place, it didn’t mean we had to have sex. I was telling the truth.
Anna let me take Kasia home, sparing me the cockblock. The first thing I did when we got to my place was load Google Translate on my laptop.
She typed in, “How many girls have you been with in Poland?”
“Do you always bring home girls like this?”
“Never on Tuesdays. ”
“Do you want to see me again?”
“Of course. You’re pretty, you’re sexy, you’re fun. I see no reason why I wouldn’t want to see you again.” I kissed her.
Her tiny size really hit me when she took off her heels. I asked her how much she weighed. “Thirty-five kilograms” (77 pounds). Besides her surprisingly round ass, she had the body of a gymnast who didn’t quite make it past puberty.
We moved to my bed. I got her down to her bra and panties but she kept saying “no, no.” I was so turned on by her beauty and petite figure that I told myself she’s not walking out my door without getting fucked. At that moment I accepted getting locked up in a Polish prison in order to make it happen.
She tried to go down on me but her mouth was too small. Then I grabbed her and made her sit directly on my face. I ate her pussy, the first time I’d done so in a couple of years. I enjoyed it.
I put on a condom, lubed up, and finally got her consent to put it in. The best way to visualize our lovemaking is an elephant mounting a kitten. My dick was half the size of her neck. I put her on her stomach and went deep, pounding her pussy like a pedophile. She took it like a champion even though I imagine it must have felt like getting fucked by a telescope. My orgasm was from another world.
While talking to Anna I saw a vision of the end of the night, of me sitting in my room jerking off to porn. I knew she would apologize for having a boyfriend and give me a little kiss goodbye on the edge of my lips. I knew that I would walk home alone. This time I refused to accept that.
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