The notch was a great metric that kept me motivated in the game longer than my natural disposition. I wanted to hit a high number so that I could feel like a man. I eventually hit a count which made me feel proud, yet I kept going. There were girls I banged just so I could send a “+1″ text to my friends and get validated by their positive response, but eventually that got old.
The flag was a new metric that kept me not only banging but traveling as well. Long after I stopped caring about notching my belt, flagging kept me full-time in the game for an extra three years of my life. But then I got a lot of flags and there weren’t many other countries I wanted to visit. It stopped being enough.
Doing it for the story was a new reason to stay in the game. I know my role as the monkey who must keep dancing. I pursued interactions I normally wouldn’t so that I could write something for you. But there are only so many ways to tell the same story and the validation you gave me was no longer enough to send me out the door to repeat what I’ve already done so many times before.
I noticed a change halfway through my last trip to Europe. I was getting more and more reluctant to go out at night. I had to force myself using all manner of tricks. I ignored the voice inside me that said to stop and went out anyway to rack up more notches, more flags, and more stories. I was a banging machine, totally mindless about why I was doing something that was giving me decreasing pleasure. I like making fun of American women for having the mentality of a hamster, but I was the epitome of a hamster, spinning around, working hard to fuck when it has long stopped moving me forward.
For the first time since 2003, I banged less girls than the year prior (2011 was greater than my 2012). My quantity has peaked. I simply cannot harness that amount of energy I put into getting laid with what I did in 2011, no matter how much alcohol or caffeine I pump into my body, no matter what artificial flag goal I make, no matter how much I abstain from masturbating, and no matter how I try to jack up my testosterone levels through diet or weight lifting. Today when I see a pretty girl with a great ass, I can’t help but be reminded of another girl I fucked who looks similar to her, and how I’m ready to only put in the most minimal of effort to take her to bed—effort that is simply not enough to maintain my previous results.
“No, it’s not over yet, just put in the work! Keep going! Go to the club tonight! Don’t stop!”
Nearly three months ago in Warsaw I went out alone to a Polish club. I psyched myself up to put in 10 honest approaches. I would go back to my roots and just work and bang. I didn’t want to accept that I’ve peaked.
It took everything I had to make it to eight approaches. I only liked one of the girls, and the rest I just went through the motions, as if out of habit. I kissed a random girl that gave me a half boner. I went home and stared at myself in the mirror for a long while. I saw the gray in my beard and hair. I saw the lines developing around my mouth. I saw the tired eyes of a man who has been lucky to see what he has. On that night, for the first time in eleven and a half years, getting laid was no longer the number one priority in my life.
The game is in my blood. Like any addict coming off a drug, there will be relapses, but I know change when I see it.Tweet Follow @rooshv
Related Posts You May Like:
Game Tips Newsletter:
So long, and thanks for all the fish :-)
You’re coming into a new phase in life where you’re looking for something more. This is understandable. You’re also entering an age that relationship-minded Manospherians see as the ideal age for a man to find a woman for a committed relationship. As I doubt that is on the forefront of your mind, I suspect that the idea of commitment is percolating in the background. Being around all those attractive, feminine eastern European girls is likely getting to you.
Your challenge is to find a project that yields both income and personal fulfillment. Return of Kings might very well be it. Keep us all posted.
Roosh – you have played the notch game and it has played itself out. Nothing wrong with that. But getting a bit older and more mature doesn’t mean you are done with ‘the game’. Although I haven’t collected as many notches as you (who has!?) I know exactly where you are, but I can assure you it’s not the beginning of the end – rather it’s the end of the beginning ;-)
In a year or two you should change your game toward TOP NOTCHES. Focus ONLY on 8+ notches, which will considerably change your approach. If your goal is to only bang nines and possibly tens you will maybe bag one every few weeks but it will be worth the experience. Think young pussy monger evolving into international jet-setting man of mystery. Just an idea – whatever you decide you’ll always be a legend to us.
Hope you find your new motivation, whatever that may be, and keep sharing.
Thanks for the devastatingly honest insights Roosh. I’m at the same stage. Have done things far beyond what I (or 99% of men) could have ever dreamed with women. But now I’m at the stage where I’m ready to move on and settle down. I want to have kids. When it comes down to it, that’s the most important legacy we leave behind.
So now Roosh goes into politics. Yawn.
I believe Roosh has ascended to the next level of pick-up, which is called Empire Building.
It’s a level usually reserved for Kings, Celebrities, Rock Stars, Presidents, and Czars.
It’s where pussy is no longer a challenge for you anymore and the next logical step for a man to do is build a Nation.
After you “pick-up” pussy; it’s now time to “pick-up” the World.
I think you should do what everyone does when they get to this stage… Try to pass on your knowledge! (Not that you haven’t done that before) But you might want to do more one on one style stuff. Sort of like a Jedi master and his padawan, to use a nerd reference
When you quit, it will be like losing a great friend, even though I’ve never met you.
Part of my motivation will die with your “passing”. But I’ve not achieved anything near your level yet. My journey has only just begun. I must travel. I must push my comfort zones. I must persist in the face of this madness that we call The Game.
Only then will I even consider a change of course.
Thanks for the inspiration, man!
“I saw the gray in my beard and hair. I saw the lines developing around my mouth. I saw the tired eyes of a man who has been lucky to see what he has.”
That was a actually quite moving in my opinion.
:emo Say it ain’t so
Secondly, Roosh (or any other man for that matter.) should never settle down based on game boredom. The worst thing a man can do is settle down based on player boredom. That’s what happened to Usher the pop singer. It’s been over a year and he is still in/out of divorce court with that wilda-beast he married.
Roosh, I think you need to raw dog a feminist to give you back that righteous anger. http://www.rooshv.com/do-it-for-the-notch
You’ve been a huge inspiration and source of wisdom for me but its time for you to move on to my game: hooker game. I fucked two new hotties on saturday afternoon, separated only by a couple of miles and a short lunch. The second,a 21yo Russian, has the body of a model, loves getting doggied, and asked me to cum on her face. My 21yo hooker/girfriend (I’m 50) turned me on to her before she went to jail. They are getting cheap down here in Tampa, total cost for both $175.
Maybe you should temporarily go back to being a lab worker who plays poker instead of game. Let that frustration really build up then unleash yourself onto the world again.
Actually, this is what you need to accept, that you’re not going to find a woman who’s good enough for you…you’re going to have to build a woman enough.
In all your “experiences”, you’ve gained a tremendous amount of wisdom. You’ve gained wisdom on sex, wisdom on relationships. You’re very aware of the mistakes women make that makes guys not want to be with them. You also understand the necessities that help make men and women have happiness with one another.
Use all that wisdom and take a girl under your wing and give her guidance. Show her the foolishness in her ways and make her better. Even if it doesn’t work, a woman who has red pill wisdom is going to be much more easier to deal with and much more beneficial to the human race than those who don’t.
DirkJohanson is right.
So many guys I’ve seen casually justify moving onto hookers and you know its because they no longer carry the fire.
Its either game or hookers but beware choosing hookers tend to go with a drug habit to numb the self loathing.
I went through similar process after traveling many countries and banging hundreds of hot foreign women. Now I focus on building wealth, health and hobbies like sailing, scuba, and flying to be more than just chasing notches. I am much happier now and feel free and that my life is not a waste. Keep up the great work!
I do have a question regarding eastern european beauty and women. Which countries have the hottest most feminine women? Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Belarus or Croatia? I am learning Russian and want to know what to focus on!
It’s called growing up. Good for you.
Once a swordsman, always a swordsman. Quality, in the end, trumps mere quantity – once the ability to land pussy almost effortlessly has been internalized in a man’s psyche.
I came here for the great writing, I’ve stayed for the honesty and the truths.
Keep it up, Roosh, you’ve got a lot of miles, and words, and quality pussy, in your future.
My story is somewhat similar to yours, I’m just a few years older. Growing up actually isn’t hard to do when you do it right.
Maybe the next part of game is mastery of woman – stuff like the deep conversion that Krauser and Xsplat talk about.
If you are thinking of catching oneitis you’ll regret it.
I peaked at around 29. Now at age 33 Im not tired of the banging per se, but you get tired of all the clubs…
Need to start diversifying. Keep working out, start running, form international businesses, etc.
Buy some polish real estate? Why not?
Well, it will be interesting to see some of your insights into relationship game.
When you get to our age, it isn’t that you don’t have game to get hot, young bang-your-brains out girls. It’s just that you’re more selective and have the financial resources to hire pros if you so desire and eliminate game. You get LAZY because you can be lazy if choose.
While I haven’t done hookers yet, it’s always a thought in the back of my mind. I’m good at the money, so I’m keenly aware of how much a good lay runs per hour compared to the crap I have to put up with for perhaps a 25% chance of a lay even with excellent game.
It’s also a sign of maturity that you’re not going to waste energy gaming so hard. Young lions may chase after any female in heat, but it’s the old leader of pride that has already won his lot of females and sits on his ass all day only exerting himself to eat, screw, and sleep — and fight off the occasional outsider challenging his dominion.
I’m just too lazy (or smart) to chase anything and everything because if my only goal is to get my dick wet, I can simply divert a few bones from scotch to pussy for a guaranteed great time. Or hell, have both at the same time!
You and heartiste should team up to write a book about keeping LTRs fresh and fun.
This sort of dilemma that Roosh spoke about, the average guy will never face this if he’s only banging mediocre #’s over the course of his adulthood. I wrote about this a while ago where I felt that I was losing my mojo. Perhaps it’s a phase which will pass, but for now, I don’t think I can ever top 2009, which was my most active year in f-closing girls. 2012 was probably my worst year since becoming a seductionist. My notch count was dismal!
Man, I feel that everyone goes through this. For me it’s more seasonal and a product of being in DC. I couldn’t imagine being surrounded by all that fine Eastern European bodies. But in the winter I want to slow down, chill forget about the notch. In the summer I’m back at it. maybe that’s the way it should be
I hope this doesn’t portend an end to your presence in the manosphere any time soon. But if it does, thanks for all the quality work that you’ve done. It’s so refreshing in our times to read the work of people who are completely honest about their lives and offer insights that aren’t corporate sponsored lies. Even better when those insights inspire you to become a better guy and get what you want outta life.
I think you ought to try and be an advocate for the political movement you believe in based on your experience with women and your international experience. There is bound to be lots of wisdom and insight you could use to further some societal movement for positive change.
Congratulations, welcome to the other side.
Your writing is good enough to stand up on its own without it all having to be about pickup.
What next? Use your skill set to try and find a high enough quality girl to have a relationship with? As I’m sure you already know, there aren’t many out there…
Since a while ago your political writing is much more fiery and passionate than the game stories, which frankly became a bit repetitive (repealing the fat cockblock, some not really pleasant bloody sex, etc.)
“I went home and stared at myself in the mirror for a long while. I saw the gray in my beard and hair”
Notice how women over the hill don’t think twice to dye their hair and deceive men as to their depreciated value.
Take your grey hair as a badge of honour.
You’ve only “peaked” in the sense that you are probably going to sleep with fewer girls in the future. But that is such a narrow criteria for claiming you’ve “peaked.” Maybe your identity was tied for a long time to the quantity (or even quality) of sex you had, but it sounds like this will soon change, if it hasn’t already. The notion of having “peaked” will soon lose its meaning, because it only makes sense in relation to your current (or past) goals.
You have proven your ability to push through obstacles (game, haters), create (this blog, your books), learn (languages, game, etc.), work independently, and generally succeed at what you set out to accomplish.
Peaked? I think you are just getting going man.
Every time I read about a PUA who couldn’t get laid to save his life until he started learning game and then they bang a bunch of chicks but eventually get tired of it, I think that they are secretly gay and never wanted to bang chicks to begin with.
Found this post insightful,self awareness is a vastly underrated trait.Listening to yourself at these times is so important.Sounds like you learned a lot from the “game” but you lost something too.
Have your iron levels tested. All the menstrual blood you’ve ingested may be catching up with you.
This is like Michael Jordan retiring prematurely.
Don’t do it Roosh.
The game needs you!
I went home and stared at myself in the mirror for a long while. I saw the GRAY in my beard and hair
Disgust is a prerequisite for change; do not mistake it for change itself.
i know the best writers bleed on their pages so this was an interesting read Roosh.
why not take a temporary break/hiatus rather than quitting alltogether?
it may just be that you need a break from it all, to truly re-appreciate the red pill lifestyle you’ve created and led for the past .
if man is a product of achievements and (self)appreciation, maybe you’ve gone too far in the achievements direction (notches followed by flags, testing things for your readership) and not too much on the self appreciation direction.
As a blunt reply though, its possible your temporary hiatus might just become a permanent one. and you have to be okay with. the readership will live on in some form or another
You should have taken on an apprentice to pass on your skills to . Hopefully your art form will not be lost .
This sounds like the end is near…
R I P
Roosh International Player
Well you still have your twin goals of destroying feminism & finding true love. Don’t feel that combining them is the best idea tho.
Slightly OT, Roosh. But whatever happened to Chaco? I know you mentioned in one of your postings a LONG time ago you going barhopping with him in the DC area. I knew him from back in the day when we were both beta dudes frequenting camwhore sites and paying girls just to undress on cam (I know, I know). He got into game just before me and turned me onto much of the literature and people involved in game. Curious to what he’s up to now.
If you do leave the game, what might you expect to replace it? And if you envision any chance of an LTR, do you feel you can pursue a meaningful one given that you have banged so much, you’re insight into women being one thing, and banged away your ability to bond another thing.. would it even be worth pursuing.
As you said, there will be relapses.
So what is next, if LTR is not in the cards?
A motorcycle and an open road? I second TPM’s recommendation. Keep at RoK. You’ve left enough accumulated knowledge to last men a lifetime in growth.. you can step away if you choose, to follow whatever path you wish. I will always consider this to be the best post you ever wrote:
Beyond PUA, beyond openers, beyond dark triad, this one piece gets to the heart of it. Simply work to become the best person you can become, and everything will fall into place.
That is the essence of game. And just like that man at the coffee table, you can smile, shake our hands and walk away from this if you so desire.
This has been coming for a while. You can see it in Roosh’s articles in the last few months.
There may not be more to the game than chasing pussy… But there is definitely more to being a man than chasing pussy.
Yeah, you’re getting older.Which means you can no longer stand silly girls in clubs. You should go for more interesting women, 23 and older, 8+ prime pussy. Quality over quantity. Avoid clubs. Go to other venues: theater, opera, painting exhibitions.
Whatever you do, don’t marry. You’ve still got ten more years of womanizing in you at the top of your game. Become an international man of mistery!
You’ve hinted at this in the past while. Your stuff in the past six months had the same feel that Ferd’s writing did right until he closed down In Mala Fide.
Your website is more about game though. It’s more about being better as a man. It’s part of building the antiuniversity, plugging out of the cathedral, change the wiring and build existence around verisimilitude. You want a cause, it’s buildin the antiuniversity. Although whether it is worthwhile to do so is another thing, if it is too late. I recommend reading Moldbug if you haven’t already.
Either way, good luck with your future plans mate. Be interesting to see where you go next.
“If I ever find myself in a funk, complacent and lacking motivation, tired of pussy, of the grind, of running game, I’m going to put on a suit and fuck the ugliest girl I can find.”
Maybe this time you need to try a man’s butt AND then an ugly girl before hopefully finally getting back to the hot chicks.
kinda like falling through dreams like the movie inception.
Unless I’m getting old to the point of senility, you probably have “peaked” in the sense of relating to what I presume is the largest audience for game/PUA writings; college age guys.
The whole club scene is, for most, a young man’s venue. I’d even go so far as to suggest that, say, 21 year old girls, who have few hangups about 35 yo guys, are less receptive to guys that old that they meet in clubs. Just like high school girls tend to dig college age guys, but (except for Matthew McConaughey in Dazed) tend to be a bit creeped out by the subset of them that keeps hanging around high school parties years past graduation.
So, to prevent the distance between you and your audience from getting too large, change your audience. Focus more on how to make pussy an adjunct to a life otherwise well lived, not the entire, hormone fueled, focus of life itself.
As posted on ROK you’re just onto the next stage of being a man, which is why being a man is awesome. because it’s always a great time to be a man. Looking forward to see where the next stage of Roosh ventures.
Double dog dare you to fall in love!
Hey Roosh, it’s good to hear at 33 your moving on. I never thot I would be tht motivated to get so many notches,its so tiring, there is so much more to life. It’s time to move onto the next thing, but keep ur blog up and keep us posted.
Just keep writing about something…
game as a theme is pretty damn tired
and you’ve run it into the ground already.
When you find something new that is interesting
to you it will be interesting to others as well.
You’re the man, Roosh. A great post. I suspect you may find that as you slacken in your pace in the coming years, your mind, upon reflection of all of these varied experiences, will now have the energy of reflection to begin to reformulate new and deeper lessons from those times, lesson that were invisible to you then, and only dimly visible to you now.
Your best writing is no doubt yet to come.
I remember reading in your ‘goodbye Europe’ post that you were thinking of going over to Asia… Do you have plans to do this Roosh? I can see it being a great story… regarding taking time out, Why not, do what feels right for you, the rest will fall into place. At least upon your return, anything you produce will sell like hot cakes!
I myself felt this coming thru ur passed writings. Im a bit saddened to see you go. Ive learned so much in my time reading your experiences. Whatever you do, please dont close down this site & the wealth of knowledge i have yet to read.
Recently your life seemed boring. Visiting beautiful, historic places and doing nothing but go to dodgy clubs and shag. Like a cake made of nothing but icing.
A wise man once say:
“If I ever find myself in a funk, complacent and lacking motivation, tired of pussy, of the grind, of running game, I’m going to put on a suit and fuck the ugliest girl I can find.”
So what’s your next project?
Arnie moved on from bodybuilding to acting after he won all there is to be won in the former.
Chasing pussy is satisfying, and is an integral part of being a man. However, it is undeniably not the end-all-and-be-all of life. I would imagine that when you’ve seen and experienced 1000+ pussies of 1000+ diverse, attractive, slutty women, the game would naturally become a bit less interesting and compelling. At that point, other interests would suggest themselves. One can still bed dozens of women without it being one’s life’s raison d’être.
You’re diversifying your income stream with RoK so you will no longer be dependent on fucking and then writing about it to earn your daily bread. Anything is less appealing when you’re essentially forced to do it day in day out to make a living. I’ll wager game will seem more satisfying when it’s done for its own sake, and not to meet a certain quota of experience so you can write a Bang Liechtenstein. I predict you’ll be a happier man after you take a break, reconnect with some good male friends (too much estrogen is bound to make any man suicidal) and try out a few new hobbies, pursuing women only when you genuinely want to. Maybe you won’t get as many notches, but they’ll probably be more satisfying, memorable, and fun. Who knows, in a couple of years we might even see Bang LTR edition.
…I’m not holding my breath for that last one though ;)
Thranduil had heard the tales of the wondrous gem the Dwarfs had found deep within the mountain; the Arkenstone. It was said to glow from an inner light and sparkle like thousands of the rarest of diamonds.
However, as Thranduil and his party walked down the hall in king Thrór’s throne room, the Elf king’s gaze was caught by another rare and beautiful treasure.
To the Dwarf King’s right stood the young prince, his grandson, and Thranduil felt something stir within himself at the mere sight of the striking Dwarf. For striking was just what he was.
Prince Thorin was clad in rich deep blue clothing with silver details, and even from a distance Thranduil could see the Dwarf’s eyes shine with the same colour as those sapphires the mountain dwelling people were so fond of.
His bearing was proud and strong, his face young and unlined – but still not boyish. And though he was not large in stature (as if Thranduil expected anything else from a Dwarf) his very presence commanded attention and perhaps, even devotion.
Going through the motions of diplomacy; exchanging gifts, trading niceties, yada yada, Thranduil felt his eyes return again and again to the prince’s muscled shoulders and large hands, to the locks of his dark hair and his strong face.
And perhaps most of all, to the large bulge in his pants, obviously soft, but even so, most worthy of note.
Not wanting to cause an incident between the Dwarfs and his people (though want was exactly what the Elf king did) Thranduil tried to contain his emotions, but the next time he looked the young prince in the face he could see that he had not been able to contain his thoughts.
Thorin looked pensive, as if he was considering a matter of uttermost delicacy, and Thranduil was momentarily reassured as it did not seem likely the prince would accuse him (however rightly) of having impure intentions, at least not in public, which limited the possibility of having their two races end up at odds for years and years. Then the young Dwarf smiled, a touch wickedly, a touch teasingly, all promises, and all the great Elvenking could think of as those blue eyes sparkled directly at him was that if he should cause a diplomatic incident, it should at least be for something worthwhile.
That night Thranduil sent away those normally attending him then wandered around his given rooms in a way most unbecoming of a king. But what did it matter? Hadn’t he already behaved in a way most unbecoming?
Smiling to himself Thranduil felt himself heat with the thoughts of other unbecoming ways he could, and would, act if the young prince would allow it. If he would show.
Before dismissing his attendants Thranduil had disrobed with their aid and was now wearing a simple tunic of white silk, sparsely decorated with silver embroidery and tiny pearls. Nothing particularly fancy compared to his normal clothes, but impressive enough if he would be entertaining that night.
One could always hope that’s what the prince’s smile had meant.
At the memory of that fiendish smile Thranduil reached down between his legs to lightly rub at his expanding flesh. The sensation of silk sliding against his awakening cock made him give a soft moan, and he forced himself to snatch his hand away.
If the prince would show it would hardly be proper to greet him right away with an erection. He did not want to appear too eager. That just wouldn’t do.
Sinking down on his bed, which was surprisingly soft (Thranduil had imagined Dwarfs preferring to sleep on the stone itself) he shifted his thoughts to more meditative things. The growing of leaves, the many colours to be found in a sunset. The-
Thranduil just barely registered that someone knocked on the door to his chambers. Perhaps a little too used to having a servant there to answer it for him.
Rising gracefully from the bed he exited the bedroom just as a second and third knock echoed in his chambers, the caller growing a little more impatient.
Thranduil felt a smile settle again on his lips, but when he opened the door to reveal the young prince, it was with his usual serene expression.
When Thorin saw who had opened the door an expression of surprise had flitted across his face as he had likely expected a servant. Perhaps it had been foolish to send them away, but Thranduil had found himself beyond caring for gossiping among his attendants.
If possible his desire for the Dwarf had only grown since earlier that day, and as he looked down upon the the object of his desire, he felt his arousal grow between his legs once more.
The prince was dressed in the same blue clothing as before and up close his eyes were the same dark colour as a lake just before a thunderstorm. The Dwarf’s nose was large but noble and well formed, and the mouth surrounded by dark beard had thin but sensual lips, for a second time in Thranduil’s presence decorated by a wicked smile.
“May I come in?” the prince politely requested, and the roughness of his voice sent shivers of delight down Thranduil’s spine.
The Elf elegantly stepped aside and again shivered, because when Thorin passed him he could feel the heat of the other’s body, even with the space that still separated them.
“You are alone?” The Dwarf prince inquired as he wandered around the empty chambers, seemingly inspecting everything was to his satistfaction.
“I am,” Thranduil replied as he allowed the door to fall shut.
“Will not be back until the morning,” Thranduil said to make things clear between them. “We are alone.”
At this Thorin’s teasing smile grew larger – though no less wicked, and he stopped his wander by the door leading to the bedroom. Slowly but confidently the young prince began to undo the lacings on his tunic, gradually baring muscles covered with pale flesh and dark hair to the Elf’s hungry gaze.
“I saw you watching earlier,” Thorin stated and again caught Thranduil with his piercing gaze. “At first I didn’t understand your intention, but then everything became very clear.”
Stopping to rid himself of belt and boots Thorin left the shirt hanging half way of his shoulders, one dark nipple visible, the other still hidden behind the heavy fabric.
“And I would very much like to have you,” Thorin said, and it would almost have sounded nonchalantly, if it wasn’t for the darkening of his eyes and the way his voice had deepened further.
Finding his voice, Thranduil tried to not appear too eager. It wouldn’t do to give this young princeling the advantage over him.
“And you believe I will let you?”
Thorin gaze roamed down the half-dressed Elvenking’s body and back up again to meet his eyes.
“I do,” he answered simply and dragged the tunic over his head, leaving his muscled chest completely bare to Thranduil’s greedy eyes. The motions had made the Dwarf’s dark locks of hair wilder still and the Elf King’s fingers twitched with the want to bury themselves in it.
But unhurriedly he walked towards Thorin, stopping just in front of him, not touching, but definitely close enough to do so.
As natural, they were of very different heights. Thorin was tall for a dwarf but that mattered little as Thranduil was still several heads taller. Looking down on the prince Thranduil tangled his left hand in the unruly dark locks while the other stroked across the Dwarf’s chest, exploring the texture of coarse hair and smooth skin and finding the sensation intoxicating.
“I would like to taste you,” the Elf king murmured feeling again the desire rise within himself like a wave. “But I will not kneel before you, prince.”
“How fortunate that we have a bed then,” Thorin replied and gestured with one hand for the doorway to the bedroom. “Please, lead the way.”
Walking into the bedroom Thranduil could again feel the heat coming from the prince as he following close behind him.
Without turning around Thranduil reached down for the hem of his shift and gracefully pulled it off his body. It had served its purpose.
The fiery gaze he could feel on his back was almost a physical caress, but not allowing it to affect him Thranduil slowly sank down on the bed and arranged himself on his side, facing Thorin.
The Dwarf’s eyes were heated indeed, the blue now almost completely swallowed by black, burning hotter than the innermost of a flame and glowing more brilliantly than the fabled Arkenstone.
“If you would have me,” Thranduil said, his turn now to slowly let his eyes sweep up and down – taking in the form of his soon to be lover. “If you would have me, I wish to see you first, and then I would taste you, or…” He let a mocking smile flitter across his lips. “Would that make you spill, young prince? And make you leave my room? Leave me unfulfilled?”
He had hoped to tease the Dwarf into action, but apart from the continued heat in his eyes Thorin looked all too indifferent for Thranduil’s taste. And still all too clothed.
“I imagine all Dwarfs must seem young to an Elf,” Thorin mused as he slowly dragged his hand across his chest in much the same way Thranduil had done earlier, the movement capturing the Elf King’s attention as he could very much still feel the sensation of rough hair and coiled muscle beneath his hand.
“However,” Thorin continued, letting his fingers wander until they found a pebbled nipple to caress. “However, age is hardly a correct measure of skill, or of endurance. Youth however, will almost always guarantee passion and vitality.”
Amused at the princeling’s teasing words and actions Thranduil tilted his head and gazed up at him through coyly lowered lashes.
“If you wish to try my passion, prince, you need only to finish your disrobing and join me.”
Rolling more fully onto his back Thranduil allowed himself to stroke hands down his chest and flanks, caressing the inside of his pale thighs before grasping his length for a leisurely stroke from glans to root.
Opening eyes which had fallen closed Thranduil favoured Thorin with a look full of promise.
“If nothing else age gives us the advantage of experience while at the same time teaching us to find joy in new discoveries,” he said and brought his other hand to his lips to wet his fingers.
Pinching a nipple the Elf moaned and allowed his back to arch slightly, showing off his slender body. Taking a deep breath to stop his voice from giving away his desire Thranduil met Thorin’s dark gaze again and concluded:
“Because what is life without pleasure?”
The Dwarf’s thin lips quirked in a charming leer.
“You speak prettily, Lord of Mirkwood. And well aware you are, I’m sure, that you are as fair as a moonbeam striking down on the rarest of moonstone.” Coming close enough for his knees to hit the side of the bed Thorin bent down to whisper into the Elf’s pointed ear.
“I wonder,” he murmured, breath deliciously hot, “If the sounds you will make when I am inside you will be just as beautiful.”
Thranduil placed his hand on Thorin’s hard stomach, slowly slipping it down to hover over the laces and fabric keeping the prince’s hardness covered.
“Let me see you know.” Words that could be command and plea both.
Regardless of which, Thorin answered their call and stepped back before undoing the bindings on his trousers with a single tug.
Intense pale eyes followed his hands as the fabric was pushed downward, and with a graceful movement Thorin was standing again by the side of the bed, now completely bare to the Elf’s gaze.
The Dwarf prince’s cock was much like its master, with unexpected length and a delicious thickness – both already making Thranduil’s mouth water. At the moment it was flushed with blood, and stood proudly at attention. A small amount of slick had gathered at the plump head, peeking out from the slightly darker foreskin.
“Do I pass muster?” Thorin asked drily and raised a heavy brow.
Ignoring his words for the moment, Thranduil forced his gaze to leave the tempting length and instead traverse the rest of the Dwarf’s body.
Visible to Thranduil was now also sturdy thighs, well worthy of his attention as they were heavily roped with muscles and decorated with more dark hair, coming together with the flat stomach and strong chest at slim hips.
The prince of Durin’s line would not be the first Dwarf Thranduil sought pleasure with, but unless appearances were so far deceiving he would likely be the most rewarding.
“Morning will come too soon,” Thranduil murmured as reply and as continuation of his thoughts, and took pleasure in the smile that came to the young prince’s face at the compliment.
Commanding Thranduil then stretched out his hand to Thorin.
“Join me now,” he appealed. “I wish to have your kisses before I taste the rest of you.”
Thorin let himself be arranged on the soft covers of the bed, upper body resting against the headboard – supported by pillows stuffed with down and heather, and Thranduil draped himself along his side, one long leg thrown over Thorin’s hip. Looking at the Dwarf with hooded eyes Thranduil slowly brought his head in closer, letting his blond hair languidly drag over skin, before finally letting his lips meet those of the young prince.
Thorin returned the kiss quite skillfully, courteous at first as they got acquainted, but soon enough there was a large hand gripping Thranduil’s hair and the kiss turned rougher.
Thorin tasted sweet, underlined with something faintly metallic, and Thranduil let his tongue curl delicately against the roof of the Dwarf’s mouth, withdrawing gracefully when Thorin sought to thrust his tongue inside Thranduil’s mouth in much the same rhythm as his other hand had begun to knead the Elf’s backside.
Finding his own hand tangled in dark locks, and the other braced against the sturdy chest, Thranduil let out a satisfied moan and tangled their tongues together again.
Breaking the kiss some time later, Thranduil was gratified by the way Thorin unthinkingly chased after his mouth and he gave a quick nip to the Dwarf’s lower lip, then soothing it with a quick lick of his tongue.
“I believe,” Thranduil said, surprised at the heat curled in his own voice, “There are other parts of you I wish to explore.”
Cupping the Elf’s face Thorin let his thumb drag across the pouty lips.
“If you must,” he said coolly, betrayed by the heated interest pushing at Thranduil’s thigh.
With cheeks burning slightly from the feel of Thorin’s beard against them Thranduil made his way down Thorin’s solid body, stopping every now and again to press kisses or bites to whatever body part having caught his fancy.
He would have liked to spend more time exploring, but the Elf King could feel the body beneath his grow tenser with impatience.
But he had to halt and rub his smooth cheek against the thick trail of hair leading down to Thorin’s groin, taking a deep breath to fill his nose and lungs with the thickening smell of musk. Thranduil then moved to lie between the Dwarf’s spread thighs.
Wrapping his hand around the base of Thorin’s cock, taking joy in the foreskin as that was not to be found among his own people, Tranduil then looked up to make sure his audience was focused on his actions and he was not displeased with what he found.
When he met Thorin’s eyes this time they were almost fully black, the barest ring of stormy blue circling them. Thorin’s lips were swollen and reddened, hair an even more tangled mess than before, and it was with much satisfaction Thranduil parted his lips to take the fat cock into his mouth.
The liquid pearled on the tip was salty-sweet and just a little bitter and Thranduil rolled it across his palate with enjoyment, letting his tongue dip down again and again to seek more.
Curled at it was around the root of the shaft Thranduil’s hand could just barely fit around Thorin’s thickness, and he looked with anticipation towards taking the length into himself later.
His other hand and arm was braced over the Dwarf’s hip to stop any sudden thrusts, though Thranduil did not doubt that it was as much Thorin’s self-control as his own strength which stopped him. He could feel it in the way those powerful muscles clenches and unclenched.
Deciding such valour deserved a reward Thranduil relaxed his throat and took Thorin deeper until his nose was buried in dark curls. Swallowing around the thick length Thranduil would have smiled if he could when curses flowed from the prince’s mouth before he regained control over himself. It would seem not many had taken the young prince like this before, perhaps being too intimidated by his size and girth.
Pleased Thranduil hummed around the shaft and knowing it would come, he was able to follow the movement when Thorin’s hips bucked.
Pulling off to wet his lips and take a deeper breath Thranduil was displeased when hands reached down to tangle in his hair and wouldn’t allow his return.
Being dragged up and kissed until all the air in his lungs had been stolen did make up for some of his displeasure. The wild look in Thorin’s eyes did the rest as something inside Thranduil purred at the proof that the prince had lost his composure.
Smiling contently he reached down a hand and wrapped it around Thorin’s now slick cock.
“Are you ready to have me then?” he asked coily, enjoying the growl rising in the chest beneath his.
“Oh I shall have you, Elvenking,” Thorin rumbled and in a deft movement flipped them so that Thranduil’s body was now covered by the dwarf’s. Lying like that they were more equal than Thranduil first had thought they would be. The Dwarf being long in the body and the Elf himself wearing more of length in his legs.
“I shall have you many times during this night,” Thorin said in a hoarse voice. “And leave you loose and slick with my come. And in the morning I will have you again so that when your servants come they will find their king properly wrecked.”
The Dwarf prince was hovering over Thranduil braced on muscular arms, his hair hanging down around both their faces as a dark curtain. Their lower bodies were pressed together as best as they could and the Elf could feel the proof of Thorin’s passion pushed against his stomach, hot and hard like a rod of steel freshly from the forge. His own hardness lay hot and heavy against a hairy thigh.
“I will fill you again and again until you are dripping with it, and I will make you beg.”
The last was hissed between clenched teeth before Thorin ruthlessly took his mouth again, slowly grinding his hips into the struggling body beneath his.
Annoyed, Thranduil bit the tongue spearing his mouth.
“I will never beg,” he spat out when his mouth was released. “You set yourself impossible goals, little prince.”
Saying nothing Thorin instead sealed their mouths together again and they both struggled for dominance with tongues and teeth. When Thranduil would not give in and pushed at the Dwarf’s shoulders Thorin captured Thranduil’s slender wrists in one big hand and pinned them over his head.
Thorin then put his full weight on Thranduil, pressing the air from his lungs and continuing to kiss him until the Elf king grew dizzy.
Thranduil let himself go soft and pliant and when Thorin’s grip on his wrists relaxed the merest fraction he broke loose and threw all his weight and strength into rolling them over.
It worked, but before he could pin the difficult young prince beneath him in turn, Thorin managed to pull up his knees into the Elf’s stomach and push. Thranduil ended up lying outstretched on his back once more, only now with his head pointing away from that of the bed.
In a flash Thorin was on him once again and Thranduil was once more found his hands pinned over his head while the dwarf straddled his lower stomach and held the Elf king in place with his heavier weight.
Thranduils legs were free but when he tried to use them to once more to gain the upper hand Thorin laughed and released him. Sitting back he held up his hands.
“Peace now, O Lord of the Forest. I see my words was made in haste and I would offer my amends,” he said. “I still intend to have you, but I would taste you in turn now.”
Seeing a spark of mischief in the Dwarf’s eye Thranduil looked for a trap, but finding none in the words spoken he inclined his head in the slightest of motions.
“That would be acceptable,” he said, pacified.
With a satisfied grin Thorin moved from his position astride Thranduil’s waist and knelt between the Elf’s now spread legs. Seeing the young prince is such a position re-kindled Thranduil’s passion and he pliantly enough allowed his legs to be moved over those well-muscled shoulders as Thorin made a place for himself, letting Thranduil’s lower back come to rest against his bended knees and the Elf’s long legs dangle down his back.
Rubbing a foot curiously against Thorin’s back Thranduil noted that the Dwarf didn’t seem to have any hair there. Then his attention was commanded by a warm wet tongue licking him, though not on his cock.
The Dwarf had cupped Thranduil’s rounded ass in large hands, spreading the cheeks to make way for his tongue to seek out the very core of the Elf.
At the first wet touch on his hole Thranduil had to choke down a gasp. This was not what he had expected when the Dwarf had wanted to taste him, but he’d be damned to let the young prince know of his shock. Instead he pulled up his knees to better spread himself open, shivering at the pleased hum Thorin made, and the rough sensation of beard dragging against his sensitive skin.
Soon enough though there was only the sensation of a tongue jabbing at him, demanding entry, everything else faded into the background.
Thorin alternated between slow, long swipes with the flat of his tongue and open mouth kisses to that pink rimmed hole. Even if Thranduil would not beg his body begged for him, hole now clenching and unclenching, desperate to be filled.
Thorin happily obliged, spearing his tongue inside again and again, licking inside in small curls and flexes.
Thranduil’s cock was hanging heavy between his bent legs, pressed against his stomach by the nature of his folded position. With every thrust of Thorin’s tongue it twitched and every wet lick made it leak wetness to pool in Thranduil’s navel.
He refused to beg, would neither plead for more, nor for Thorin to stop, and for what felt like an actual Age there was just the soft slick sounds of mouth on skin, intermingled with the moans the Elvenking could not quiet, and the satisfied hums coming from the prince.
Then came the first touch of the rough pad of a fingertip against his hole, and a thick finger pushed into him, slick with spit. It did nothing to quench the burning inside him, nothing to soothe the feeling of emptiness, but when it suddenly was removed and Thorin pulled away from him, moved off the bed, Thranduil threw open eyes he had not been aware of closing.
“I will just collect oil to ease my way,” Thorin calmed, and Thranduil, shamed that his expression had been so easy to read felt his cheeks burn with more than just arousal.
As Thorin left the room Thranduil stretched out his legs, and arranged himself so his head was once more facing the headboard. Quickly sorting out his long hair, detangling the blond locks, he then wiped himself free of his slick and moved into a seductive position on his side.
When Thorin returned it was to Thranduil composed once more, the only sign of his desires was the long slender cock lying flush against his flat stomach.
Thranduil delicately put his fingers against his lips to wet them and then brought them down to tease himself with, smiling inwardly at the growl coming from the young prince when he circled his eager hole. Slipping a slender digit inside himself the Elvenking licked his lips and arched his back, pushing into the sensation.
“Oh, you have returned,” he said nonchalantly.
With a low snarl and two large strides Thorin crossed the room and bent to claim those insolent lips.
“Soon enough there will be no doubt of that,” Thorin growled when they parted for breath.
Thranduil’s finger was still inside himself, his arm crushed beneath his body and that of the young prince, and when he was jostled he accidentally touched that special nub inside himself, making stars fall across his vision.
His eyes opened again to a grin slipping across Thorin’s face.
“I will enjoy having you look like that once I am inside you,” the Dwarf stated.
“You spin a grand tale, prince. Of having me again and again, but still I am unclaimed.”
Not letting the words provoke him Thorin merely grinned wider and dragged his tongue down that long pale neck, stopping to suck a bruise just over the spot where the Elf’s pulse was visible. Thranduil groaned and tilted his neck for better access.
“I assume you will not turn to your hands and knees,” Thorin mused as he dragged his hands down the lightly muscled chest and hard ribs.
“I will not be mounted as a beast, no,” Thranduil spat out.
“As a beast or by a beast?” Thorin drily inquired. “Compared to the softness and smoothness of your own kind we must appear beast-like indeed.”
Curling his fingers in the hair covering Thorin’s chest, Thranduil gave the dwarf a coy look.
“It is not displeasing to me,” he said.
“Ah, damned by faint praise,” Thorin said, but it seemed peace was again restored between them for he once more descended to kneel between Thranduil’s legs, and this time when the touch of a finger came it was with the slick feel of oil covering it.
This time only one of his legs was pushed over a strong shoulder and Thranduil curled the other one around Thorin’s hip.
Two thick fingers were soon thrusting slickly in and out of his body, joined by a third when Thranduil impatiently dug his heel into Thorin’s back.
Shuddering with delight when stars again exploded behind his eyes Thranduil spread himself wider.
“Now,” he commanded, feeling as though he had been waiting for this for days.
Amused at the royal command coming from someone spread open on his fingers Thorin none the less complied and coated his hard length with oil, other hand still pumping and loosening the Elf kings passage for his entry.
Removing his fingers Thorin reached for the pillows at the head of the bed, using them to better ready the Elf for him, Thranduil now being at the perfect height to receive Thorin’s cock.
Thorin then gripped one pale cheek in each hand and spread them to reveal the pink glistening hole. It looked very small, but from having his fingers there Thorin felt assured that he could fit.
To tease them both he first merely rubbed the sticky head of his cock against the hole, speading the slickness around and making the hole clench at the touch as if it tried to kiss the glans.
Not wanting to drag the teasing into another argument Thorin soon enough pushed against that tempting little curl of muscle, eager to be inside.
They both groaned when the tip of Thorin’s cock sank in.
“Ah,” Thorin rumbled as he entered another few inches. “You are tighter than I thought. Perhaps I should have loosened you more with my tongue. Licked you open until you knew nothing more than the press of my tongue.”
Another short thrust and half of Thorin’s cock now breached Thranduil. Pulling back out again until only the head remained Thorin repeated these actions a few times, then long legs wound themselves around his waist and pulled until he sank himself fully inside the Elf.
Thranduil moaned at the feeling of being so completely filled, shuddering when Thorin ground their hips together and his sweet spot was hit. The cock was burning him, it was so deep inside it felt as if he should be able to feel it if he put a hand on his stomach.
Apparently Thorin entertained similar thoughts, because the dwarf stretched out a hand on the pale skin of Thranduil’s chest and dragged it down until the heel of his palm rested on the Elf’s cock while his fingers were stretched over the Elf’s flat gut.
“Do I feel very big inside of you?” Thorin asked and gave a slow roll with his hips. “Your mouth makes such a pretty shape when you moan, I wish there was a way for me to take you both ways at once. I will have to settle for fucking you hard enough you will feel me in your throat.”
And with that the Dwarf started a fierce rhythm, bracing himself over Thranduil as he again and again sank his cock deep inside.
Thranduil reached down a hand to touch himself, but Thorin turned it away, not harshly but very decisive.
“I will make you come on my cock,” he stated, punctuating each word with a thrust. “And I will keep taking you until you can come again.”
As revenge Thranduil clenched around him, feeling the tiniest bit smug when the prince’s eyes closed at the feeling.
“I believe I said I was no longer content with empty promises,” Thranduil mocked best as he could through a moan.
“Oh, but you are not empty anymore,” Thorin said and again ground his hips to hit the Elf’s sweet spot. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Why should I?” Thranduil arched into the hips pounding against his. “Is the little prince insecure in his abilities? In need of reassurance?”
“If I was I would be tumbling silly maids from my grandfather’s kitchen,” Thorin replied and pinched Thranduil’s nipple. “Their folds grow wet if I merely look at them, so eager are they for me to get a royal whelp in their bellies.” Then he gave a rumbling laugh. “I admit to not knowing much about Elves, but I assume that is not something we need to take into consideration here.”
“Indeed not,” Thranduil said amused against his will at the thought of himself heavy with child.
“So you see,” Thorin continued, slowing down his thrust until they could speak more normally. “I do this not because it is easy, or because I need an heir. I do this because I saw you standing before my grandfather and my only thoughts were for how many steps separated us. How big a scandal I would cause if I had you right there on the floor. How you would look spread around my cock.”
“And does reality live up to the expectations?” Thranduil asked and stroked his hands down the sturdy arms surrounding him. The hair really was quite pleasant to the touch. He let them wander downward still and settle on the slim hips giving him so much pleasure.
Perhaps the question was a little too honest, and he should have laughed instead and asked just exactly how big of a scandal it would have caused, but now that the words had left his lips he found himself curious of the answer.
Thorin’s dark eyes searched the Elf King’s, and finding nothing but curiosity he answered honestly in turn.
“I said you are fair as a precious jewel, but unlike a stone you are warm and soft to the touch.” Thorin pushed Thranduil’s knees higher so that he could bend down and kiss the Elf’s chest.
“Unlike a stone you are warm and tight around my cock, wet and giving, and I would like to know if you will outshine even the sun when you clench and shudder and spurt your release.”
“Very well,” The Elf king murmured and wound his arms around the prince’s neck, curling fingers in dark locks. “I believe that wish can be granted.”
For a while there was no more talking, just the sound of flesh upon flesh, moans of pleasure, and the slick sounds of Thorin’s cock sinking into Thranduil’s well welcoming hole.
Also granting Thorin’s other request, Thranduil did not reach for himself, but with the position they coupled in, the Elf’s cock rubbed against Thorin’s stomach with each stroke the Dwarf made, and when Thorin angled his thrusts to again and again hit directly against the little bundle of nerves within Thranduil’s tight passage it was not long before the Elf felt his release build inside, felt it spreading through him like sap rising inside the trees every spring.
Pressing his legs harder against Thorin’s sides and back the Elf arched his spine and pushed against the cock filling him, searching for that final movement which would push him over the edge. When it came he greedily surrendered to it, felt himself clench down as he spent himself between their bodies. Smearing the dark hair on Thorin’s stomach with his seed.
Thorin clenched his teeth as Thranduil’s passaged trembled and fluttered around him, seemingly eager to get him to spend as well. When the Elf had stopped shuddering Thorin smeared his fingers with the essence now cooling between their bodies, offered it up for Thranduil to taste.
The Elf’s pink tongue curled around his fingers, licking them clean with cat-like contentment.
“Mmm,” Thranduil hummed, stroking his hands languidly down Thorin’s back. “And will I get to taste you, prince?”
“Soon enough,” Thorin replied. “I believe I said you would come twice on my cock. This was merely one.”
Pulling up his knees to place his legs a little more comfortable on Thorin’s trim hips Thranduil unwound his hands from the Dwarf’s thick hair and leisurely stretched his arms above his head. The movement made him push his lower body more firmly against the young prince and Thranduil’s cock which hadn’t fully softened gave an interested twitched as it was again rubbed against the coarse hair on Thorin’s stomach.
His release putting him in a playful mood, Thranduil again fitted his arms around Thorin’s strong shoulders and contorted himself until he could steal a kiss. Giving the upper lip a lick, he then withdrew and gazed at the Dwarf with pleasure sated eyes.
“That was indeed one,” he agreed and raised an eyebrow playfully, clenching down again on Thorin and making them both groan.
Fisting his hand in Thranduil’s blond locks Thorin pulled the Elf up for another kiss. When they parted Thranduil dipped his fingers into the seed on his belly and offered it up to Thorin now. But when the Dwarf leaned in, Thranduil snatched his fingers back and put them inside his own mouth.
“After I’ve spent myself in you,” Thorin growled and gave a few extra hard thrusts. “I will suck my seed out and feed it to you. And then when you are empty I will just have to fill you once more.”
Thranduil could now definitely feel his cock awaken once more and he reached down a hand to stroke himself, but he had only managed a few pulls when Thorin’s hand settled around his and clenched until the point of pain.
“On my cock alone, O King,” the Dwarf growled.
Schooling his face into an expression of absolute boredom, though he wouldn’t be surprised to know his eyes sparkled with mischief, Thranduil sniffed once, arched a pale brow and asked:
“Oh, is it still in?”
Delighting in the way it caused the Dwarf’s stormy eyes to flash and his chest to rumble like the thunder.
Thorin was soon thrusting brutally; growling and grunting with each thrust, intent on making the Elvenking spend himself again.
Thranduil merely groaned, and met the thrusts, bracing his arms above his head against the headboard for leverage. This time Thorin did not fall silent but continued to mutter the most filthy things as he pounded the Elf’s greedy hole.
“How many times can I make you come I wonder,” Thorin rumbled low in his chest. “I have not even tasted you, you see. And I’m sure you would like to use my mouth, plug my throat, and coat it with your seed. If you have any left when I am done having you. If you do not I will make you come dry. Slip a finger inside you as I suck, and rub your little nub until you gasp and twitch beneath me.”
Sitting back on his heels Thorin took Thranduil’s ass in his hands again, letting his cock slip from its warm sheath, but before Thranduil had time to complain at the loss, the head of Thorin’s cock was back to spread him in a slow slide.
“I do enjoy seeing you take my cock,” Thorin continued, sounding entirely composed apart from the way his breaths had acquired a rugged edge. “Your little hole swallows me greedily and clings just as wantonly when I try to withdraw.”
Over and over he withdrew completely only to slowly sink back inside, and every penetration was maddening in its thoroughness.
“I knew you would be so good and tight when I first spread you with my fingers and felt you clench around them. Had it been long since anyone last claimed you? Or does the mighty king spread his legs for his guards every night in order to be satisfied? Do they leave you boneless and covered in their spunk?”
Thranduil tried to deny Thorin’s words, but Thorin went back to the brutal pace from before and pushed all words from Thranduil’s head.
“Would you have let me have you if I was just a commmon miner, filthy from digging through rock and coal,” Thorin panted.
Again finding the correct angle Thorin swiched back to shorter stabs that massaged Thranduil’s sweet spot. “I would have made you filthy too, putting my black hands all over your pale body. Everyone would know just what sort you had allowed to take you. That you had presented your greedy hole to a commoner and allowed him to spear you with his dirty cock.”
Finally finding his voice, Thranduil gasped for breath to speak.
“I- I would not lower myself like that,” he managed to say before speech again deserted him.
“Pity,” Thorin grunted. “I was thinking perhaps I could call *my* guards here and they could keep your mouth filled while I use you again and again. They would give you their loads and when your belly was too full they could simply squirt it in your hair, on your face. Rub it all over you.”
The wave built once again inside Thranduil, even more powerful than before and he sank his teeth into his own arm to stop the undignified noises that threatened to fall from his lips.
Thorin shook his head and once again covered Thranduil’s body with his own, nearly bending the Elf in half in order to fuck his tongue into Thranduil’s slack mouth in the same rhythm his hips pushed against the Elf’s ass.
“Come for me,” he breathed, and bit into Thranduil’s shoulder in the same place where the Elf had sunk his teeth. The pain burst across Thranduil’s senses, transformed into pleasure and with a scream the Elf spent himself a second time.
This time Thorin didn’t hold back.
When he felt the clenching and trembling start around him he once more sat back on his heels, pulling the Elf to straddle his lap and with fingers clenched tight enough to bruise he gripped Thranduil’s hips to move him on his cock, now caring nothing for the Elf’s pleasure, simply using him to reach his own climax.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he growled, and with limbs heavy as the stone that surrounded them Thranduil complied and rose shakily to sit on Thorin’s lap.
The new position made Thorin feel larger still inside of him, and his cock drooled another thick strand of come on his stomach, making his body lock tight around Thorin’s shaft. And with one, two, three more thrusts the Dwarf spent himself, sparks exploding across his vision like light shining on a diamond.
Wrapping his arms around the Elf’s slim back Thorin allowed them both to fall down on the soft mattress, the movement causing him to slip from the now well lubricated passage, the prince’s seed having been plentiful from being bottled up for so long.
Thranduil could feel Thorin’s seed slowly start to trickle out of his hole, down the back of his thigh. Then suddenly there was fingers pressed against his oversensitive skin, and Thranduil made a noise which he couldn’t even tell if it was pleasure or pain.
Thorin pressed two fingers against Thranduil’s hole, not yet dipping inside, just stroking along the flushed ring. Pressing a little harder with the pad of one finger left it coated in white. Slowly he sank his middle finger inside to the knuckle.
“You are so slick with my spend, so ready for me to take you again,” Thorin told the Elf as he slowly pumped him with his finger, causing seed to slowly start to drip out as the muscles loosened once more.
The Elvenking could do nothing but moan as Thorin bent to lick at his hole, and then cock, mixing their seed on his tongue before reaching up to share it in an open mouth kiss.
True to Thorin’s earlier words about leaving him completely wrecked, Thranduil awoke some time later as his hole was once more spread open on the prince’s cock, the entry made easy by oil and seed.
There were no windows inside the mountain, no way to tell the time, but that didn’t seem to concern Thorin who informed Thranduil that morning was close.
Thorin had taken him once more after he had licked his seed from Thranduil’s hole, the act managing the impossibility of making the Elf’s cock harden once more and Thorin, who indeed had the advantage of youth, soon followed.
The pace of that coupling had been a lot less wild and the Dwarf prince had merely pressed the crown of his cock against Thranduil’s sweet spot, circling his hips with the smallest movements over and over again until they both tumbled off the cliff in unison.
At the now familiar feeling of Thorin inside him Thranduil merely grunted and lifted his knee higher to allow Thorin to sink deeper. He would not come again, but it was not an unpleasant thought to know he would feel Thorin inside of him during the trip back to Mirkwood every time he shifted on his mount.
They laid pressed together on their sides, Thranduil’s back against Thorin’s front and the prince reached over to cup Thranduil’s soft, spent cock and sack, his other hand beneath the Elf’s head toying with the long blond strands of hair.
“Before you open your impudent mouth,” Thranduil murmured. “Remember I have spent myself more times than you this night.”
Against the back of his neck he could feel a grin form, teeth pressing against the tender skin there.
“If I have caused offence allow me to make amends, O King,” Thorin said and as he started moving with slow graceful strokes, Thranduil could not help but consider what excuse could be used for another visit to Erebor within a not so distance future.
You will always be the Jane Goodall of game for us.
Your work has opened my eyes to the world, as it has for many men our age. Not just in terms of how to talk to women, but seeing the impossible and making it possible. I have already started to impress upon my closest friends the importance of confidence, they see the results in my life, and theirs are also changing. At least some of my success can be traced back to you.
I hope you will relate, in brutal honesty, your thoughts about your future path. The reason why I ask this is admittedly completely selfish. I know most men, like myself, will choose not live the same life you have over the last 10 years. Yet, many of us would find comfort in knowing that the life you have lived left you unfulfilled, if only to assuage our fears that our lives have been wasted.
If you decide all life is as meaningless and unfulfilling as the life you have lived so far, it would be a painful lesson for men to learn, but it would help us focus our efforts on productive if selfish ends. If you decide there is something else that is more fulfilling than having sex freely with as many beautiful young women as you can find, all over the world, I am sure many men will choose to follow your new advice and just skip completely over the skirt-chasing stage of life.
I remember your post about advice to a young man, instructing him that before giving the advice, he must approach 100 women, go to the gym, read books, travel, etc, and only then you would reveal the secrets you have learned. I remember reading that when you first posted it, and then again recently when you reposted, and realized how much my own attitude and life have changed just following some of the instructions. I hope you will leave humanity some further instruction based on lessons learned through your unique experiences.
PS: I know you are a fan of Seinfeld, if you really are considering retirement when you are at the top of your game, catch his thoughts with 2 of the elder statesmen of comedy: http://comediansincarsgettingcoffee.com/carl-reiner-mel-brooks-i-want-sandwiches-i-want-chicken/comedians-quitting-hit-sitcoms
I agree with whoever posted this above, please do not delete this website…some of us are new around here! im 10 years younger than you and feel closer to the beginning than at the end, and its nice to have someone older who’s been through it to get the advice from. thanks for everything roosh, and keep us posted on what you get up to next
“Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”
Commenter, thanks for submitting the gay midget porn. (Slash porn?) If nothing else, it reminds us there’s always someone worse off.
The end of what? if you mean the end of running around like a decap chicken trying to score some low-level pussy for the night, alright, no biggie.
That was never what was interesting about you in any case.
As you move rightward politically, like the intelligent man you are, you should devote yourself to sustaining the central anti-feminist community on the web. That’s the RVF and ROK and whatever comes next.
There’s no worthier goal.
Men want you to lead them out of the evil wilderness of misandry. Do it.
Whatever you do next people will still read the posts, they’re here for the prose and elocution which they struggle to find elsewhere.
Man, maybe you need a break from this for a small time. Just give some time for yourself in some interesting location, just for you. Everybody needs a vacation once in a while.
You are evolving. It seems that either you dip out of “the game” or you find a new way thats work better for you. “Game” itself is changing and must evolve to cater to mens needs.
Validation as a motivation doesn’t cut very deep and to really push forward, I think men must find deeper reasons and meanings for what they are doing that addresses the principles of the masculine core.
I am older than you, and I found a similar issue in Warsaw clubs – just nothing that interesting there and not inspired by the talent.
I get the impression you can grow and challenge yourself by getting out of older routines and patterns and trying new things. Re-evaluation and perhaps even a higher level of ability would be the result.
‘If I ever find myself in a funk, complacent and lacking motivation, tired of pussy, of the grind, of running game, I’m going to put on a suit and fuck the ugliest girl I can find.’
You know what must be done.
This is my favourite post.
Roosh I’ve never met you yet I feel like you’re a friend. Your retirement from the game saddens me. I know that often when one door closes another opens. Whatever you decide to do next I would like to see you write about it. You are a good writer – you inspired me to not settle for shit sandwiches from women who aren’t worthy of my time. Thank you Roosh!
There’s always a new kid in town..
Congratulations – you just made a level!
Remember when I wrote about the turning point in your life, that gave you motivation to quit your job and make the SA tour?
It was not the end, was it? Not even the bat-experience :P
Back then you just made a level. Like today. Congratulations!
See You Space Cowboy…
cant wait for the talk shows, auto-bio and the movie, Roosh!!
I hit the big 4-0 and feel alot that i have missed… a real relationship and kids in an early life
33 and greying….dam
reminds me of Janka who hung up the hat on game and went LTR with the eastern european girl. he seems to be doing alright…
On possibility for you now is to get a PhD in Anthropology and write your dissertation on Game. You could back into the field and overseas to do research.
Roosh [Bert] has finally outgrown banging being the #1 thing in his life, it happens to all of us, its like a pro sportsperson, you know when your time is up
Wont be long he will get hitched :-)
Not bad. I suppose it happens. But my belief is when in doubt score for better pussy. . . Keeps things interesting.
Go out. lol Take action. lol All sets are surmountable. If you are growing in life and as a being, then you are just a pussy. Get out this weekend! Take action! Hit on all 9′s and 10′s or else you are are a pussy. Forget about the meaningless variable of growth factor. Remain static… keep banging your head against the wall until you have perfected that practice. Anything less, and you are a loser. lol
Part of it is growing older/wiser and getting bored of the same shit all the time.
My own pet theory is that it’s ALSO partly because you spend a lot of time banging second/third tier chicks in second/third tier cities…which gets boring fast. Not a criticism, really. Just my own theory.
I mean your standard for “American women” is Washington DC for crying out loud. Pretty easy to jump that low-assed bar just about anywhere (as you’ve written about often here).
Time to move your game up – NYC and LA in America. London, Paris, Moscow in Europe.
As some have mentioned here, QUALITY really does count for something. If you’re putting in work, the goal better damn well be worth it.
I personally don’t go after 2nd/3rd tier women anymore. Like you said yourself, when a second tier woman (who expects as much work as a top tier woman) says “yes” to a date, I hope she flakes just save me the annoyance. (http://www.rooshv.com/i-hope-she-flakes)
If it ends, I say “Well done. Well played.”
Over the past two years, I have cared more for news of you than for that of kings and presidents.
Who knows where this Manosphere will take us. But perhaps, were it not for you, there may not be one.
If people were to ask me how I think a young man should model his life, in this society, at this time, I do not hesitate to reply “Like Roosh”.
Roosh beat the game.
Roosh, I started an LTR blog.
Roosh, thank you for everything you’ve given. I can say without shame that your words have helped change my life for the better in pretty much every aspect. Cheers.
Appreciate the honesty Roosh….an epiphany??
Even pussy gets boring.
Not heresy to perhaps want to settle down and…wait for it…. have kids. Marry or not marry it could be on your own terms. Kids are the only shot we have at some immortality. We send our genes forth into the future via our kids. Plus I think you would be a unique dad.
Oh, this is just so sweet! In fact, all things tend to wear out in life. All, even the sweetest and the most cherished. Even motherhood and apple pie. Emotions, skills, education, intellectual games, just about anything you can imagine.
Things never add up. Go figure…
A woman is whining because her daughter’s husband has taken her children away from her, and is requesting people to please help her.
I pointed out that TENS OF MILLIONS of MEN have had their children kidnapped by women, and the women REFUSED to help the men. So why should we help you women? And the reaction? The usual male-shaming language and man-hating feminist bullshit. How surprising.
Here’s the full convo. To see my replies, scroll down to User ID 20438149
Maybe you are depressed. That shit will kill your motivation.
Pussy is good but there are better things.
Your bored now. But your human so you have the ability to excel at more than one thing. It’s time to find another project to work on. And it doesn’t have to be game.
Whenever you achieve or approach the highest levels of mastery in any occupation, these feelings come into play.
No matter how satisfying the endeavor or how pleasurable, this always happens. It even happens when life is just pleasantly chugging along without major issues.
Deep inside your soul you are asking the same question that has haunted men since time immemorial. And, this is the true difference between men and women. You are asking why.
Its permutations are: what is this all for, what does it matter, was it worth it, why continue and what else is there. Some men think that it requires finding faith or a serious pursuit, wrong.
I can tell you from experience and observation that masters in science, rich men and even honest and decent religious leaders experience what you are now. Where did the years go, how much of my life did I expend on this or that, could I have done something different, I need a new challenge; trust me you don’t. It is not even about teaching others who want to follow.
After all of the introspection, it becomes about the destruction of the ego, the I pronoun used in the above paragraph. Then you realize that we are all here to have a human experience while passing the time, in other words, being kept busy.
Once you achieve this detachment from the I (ego), the particular vocations, whatever they may be, will have an effortless essence or Zen to them. Experience without emotion, just feeling and the pleasure of doing for its own sake. The vocation of choice will not be a challenge or job and you will not have to be pushed to do it. Time will be immaterial.
A lift will be just a lift, a pickup will be just a pickup, a business will be just that, science will be for its own sake.
This morning after an evening with a lady when we gaze upon the beauty, and form and actions as she sleeps it off, it will be almost spiritual as it will no longer be about us or even her. It will be a shared act of human spirituality independent of the motivation which no longer exists or has to.
When you can look at nature and be as satisfied as dancing with the ladies, you will know what I mean. The sooner men learn this lesson, the more that success flows their way. It is a form of outcome independence not in the lack of work but in the lack of ego pretense.
In honor of you and this great post, I will make this my last post under this handle as I was considering doing. My new identity will be from which my writing originates. Your writing connected the dots for me and where I wanted to go. Take satisfaction in how many men, even much older than you, have been affected by your wisdom.
“And, this is the true difference between men and women. You are asking why.”
Sorry, but what do you think is the translation of the “I’m not haappy!” attitude? Let me remind you that us of the female persuasion are the other species on this planet that has a self-awareness about its imminent demise, so it’s quite natural to ask- is this all, and why.
So, if game can wear out for you, why can I not wear out other things in life? Remember, they all wear out, and they don’t add up. Meaning is elsewhere.
And, heresy of heresies, being mulieric (that’s my handle for when I do philosophy) does not preclude one from asking and seeking and ascending.
So, I’m curious. It’s the moment when you break through or fizzle out. Which will it be?
33 seems to be an age where men who’ve been with a lot of women and never had a long term relationship hit the pussy wall. You’re banging away at some woman whose name escapes you and think “Why am I doing this again? there’s got to be more to life than pussy”.
This is what happens if you have met your goals and have no others. It’s like a Rock star who kills himself with booze and drugs because he’s got everything he thought he wanted, but has nothing left to reach for after multiple platinum albums, sex from anyone he wants.
Take some time away and figure out what you want to do next Roosh, think about a bucket list, what you would have regretted not doing if you had a year to live…… and go do it.
You have been and shall continue to be if you wish, a leader in this field. I bought “Bang” as well as the other books you have written. They certainly are well researched and also are well written; often game gurus cannot write.
I could be that the bang will no longer define who you are. It is up to you.
Up the challenge? Bang models, celebrities. Bang some feminists. Bang politicians or their wives/ daughters.
Roosh I’ve never met you yet I feel like you’re a friend[x2]
Roosh in the future play’s piano and is a popstar, see roosh in 0:09 and more:
Just be grateful you are in the position you are in, you are travelling the world banging chicks and getting paid for it. You get tired of anything after a while, including penetrating Eastern European tarts, just take some time out and doing something different.
There’s no way you have peaked at 33 or whatever you are, i’m 36 and i’m more of a beast than ever. You know what it’s like in Ukraine, you console yourself with the fact that you can bang hot students into your fifties.
Your best off getting a girlfriend, and banging chicks on the side, that’s what I think i’ll do soon.
Oh, by the way, you’re gay.
you are a brilliant man, and I have learned a shitload of good stuff from you. I know exactly what you mean when you see a really attractive girl and you can’t stop but thinking ‘yeah, so? It’s just another pussy.’. I now see her shortcomings even before I see her great ass. The thing is, I think this is a great phase for both of us. We realized that it simply is not worth all that effort. Don’t get me wrong, I really admire you for all you did and I wish I had been like you. I tried many approaches for a few weeks and realized that no bitch really deserves all that effort from my part. So I started getting back to my personal projects and banging prostitutes now and then. Yep. I know you don’t agree about it, but here’s the thing: the prostitutes here are really attractive and they are cheap. With less than 700 dollars, I banged two different girls a week for about three months. Brazilian, Asian, Swedish, Latvian, you name it. The sex would last only about 10 minutes. For me it was enough. The sex was certainly no better or worse than banging a girl I’d find at the club. What’s the difference? They are all whores anyways, ready to change ships according to where the wind blows. But here’s what all did for me: even thought they are prostitutes, they are very attractive and sexy. I feel like a completely different man. All that hunger for girls is gone. I now just see a person I’d fuck, maybe. If I don’t have money for prostitutes, I fuck a fake pussy on a box while watching an hot porn. It’s tight as hell and gives me incredible orgasms. I am not joking. Better than some girls I fucked with a loose pussy. When I finish, I just get back to my projects. These are my real loves, not some stupid fickle bitches I find at the club. I no longer feel like I have to try to be pleasant and agreeable to women, I care less and less. I now get numbers and if they play games or don’t reply within 2 hours, I just go ‘goodbye’ and delete the number (thank you Roosh).
I don’t know why fucking prostitutes feels good. It’s great. You enter the building, look at the girl, decide if she’s hot enough, act friendly to see if she does likewise (if not, I run the other way), agree on 10 minutes for about 27 bucks, and have sex with her. Man, it feels like entering a store and buying some food, no more and no less. I don’t have these hung-ups about prostitutes anymore. I had, but for me it has been a much better experience than I thought. I fucked girls of a type I would never had otherwise. Really hot 20 yo ( I am in my 30′s like you). MILFS, you name it. Roosh, the reality is that it’s just some fucking PUSSY. You can get it for less than the price I’d have to spend on some bitches anyways. I know guys who are very good at getting tail, like you, and they STILL fuck prostitutes now and then. It saves tons of time and energy. Just find out about the place beforehand,in many cases you even find online reviews. Am I saying all you did was useless? Hell, NO! All you did is very admirable. I myself still try to talk to women, but I no longer give a fuck. I guess I just can’t stand women’s lack of logic and fickleness. Fuck it, I don’t care. There’s even hotter women renting their pussies for 27 bucks, and if I didn’t know they were prostitutes, I’d never know as most are just ok girls. Some are not and have issues, but they are easy to spot, if they are not friendly I don’t do it, no matter how horny I am. Roosh, you are basically feeling like ‘been there, done that’. You have mastered all you could about women. You are a modern Casanova. There’s nothing you could have done better. You shared all your valuable insights. I think you are truly the best, the other dating gurus aren’t comparable. I could have done better /longer, but I am not prepared to devote all my time and energy to some stupid bitches. It’s just some fucking pussy. Big deal. Maybe later when I will have achieved my other, real goals. Men have built the world. Women have always helped men, sure…by pushing them off a cliff. With much admiration, Madmax
PS. only drawback is that with prostitutes ,10 minutes often is not long enough for me to cum. But I rarely agree to pay more for more time. I am not one of these guys who pay off their nose, 10 minutes for a few bucks for me is ok, I still get to bang a pretty girl, then I finish myself off at home. Lol. What the hell, there’s worst. Namely, some fickle bitches playing games at the club….I have no time for this. But hey, that’s me. My hope is that you’ll find a girl that you are really attracted to, that is mentally mature and doesn’t play stupid games. As for me, I am not illuding myself. We both know that all women, after all, are the same: crazy. I don’t need it. I can live without women, after I cum I am not interested anyways.
you ever going to let us know what your final notch count is? or will it forever be a mystery, shrouded in myth and legend? I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’s curious.
Nightclubs and bars can be exhausting after you’ve spent thousands of hours in your twenties hanging out in them.
The music usually sucks and is too loud. The smell of stale beer permeates everything. There are too many cockblockers and would-be AMOGs everywhere. The chicks are usually too mediocre in attitude, looks, and sexuality, to be worth the effort required.
I agree with others who have suggested it would be awesome if you would simply raise the bar and continue blogging about bigger challenges.
If banging drunk chicks from high school parties is beginner game, then nailing same-night lays from 2nd tier nightclubs is intermediate game.
You are now ready for advanced game.
To me, that means more day game, more game in unexpected venues where no one is drunk and there is no music. Going after 8s 9s and 10s exclusively. Getting women from a social strata that most non-wealthy men will never gain access to.
Detailing the stories of how it all went down, for the readers who are too chickenshit to try anything so bold without you going first.
You’d fail a lot more (get shot down), which also means you’d learn a lot more.
I’d read every word of those stories.
Roosh, I’ve looked in the mirror and saw those same lines, addressed the same issues. it’s the way of things. Don’t feel bad. You’ve accomplished your mission. Learned the art. It shall never leave your bones.
Young men are like machine guns spraying multiple bullets at many women. As we age/mature/evolve, we become snipers. We get selective. Increase the game from hunting ducks to killing lions.
My advice? Find a chick who deeply understands you. Stick with her. And when the itch to bang other chicks happens, try hunting in out-of-territory locations (business trips, solo vacations, etc). Become a sniper. Limit your approaches to 3-4 women in higher-end pools. You’ve got hella game. Your travelling places you in “The Most Interesting Man in the World” category. And never gorget the experiences you’ve learned – and taught – upon all of us.
Thank you, & good luck!
@Madmax – I have to ask. Where are you located?
Easier pussy and easier money, of course!
Life is simple.
I guess if you’re 33 years old you must feel the oldest one in a night club… But I have seen players who keep on playing their whole life.
So you will stop blogging? As long you write funny stories I will keep following.
My favourite posts are ’18 different types of game’ and ‘Gheridge’.
Life is about balance I always say. Now walk to the other side of the teeter-totter for a bit. You’ve accomplished something I would have only dreamed to by your age. Bravo! But, re. finding one to settle with here, especially in the states, you’ve awakened me to how f-ed up American women really are. And if that is what you’re looking for, a semi-permanent move to another country might be the only hope. Good luck and thanks for all your hard work…. thus far anyways.
A bit outside the subject of the OP (meaning, Roosh), I found this little academic article about the differences between New York and Berlin, namely, the (very important) difference between “dating” and “hanging out” (the last one is what we do in Argentina, and I found very difficult to explain it to Americans). The article is this one:
“Reflexive habits: dating and rationalized
conduct in New York and Berlin” by Monika Krause and Alexandra Kowalski.
Dating seems to be a highly rationalized form of courtship with LTR objectives, hanging out is a lot more relaxed and you continue being in contact with those people that you “hang out”, going to the movies, etc, and you don´t keep a count of the nights you spend together as with American “dates”.
A little part of the article:
“Whereas some New Yorkers started ‘French kissing’ right away, no Berlin respondent reported a first kiss that did not proceed to a French
kiss (…) It is as though once the Germans have
acknowledged romantic interest by a kiss on the mouth, there simply is no point in leaving it at that.”
“NewYorkers, both male and female, report much more detailed observation of themselves and the other party than their Berlin counterparts of either gender. Self and other are presented as people who feel, notice, think, and sometimes
strategize in specific ways and at specific moments and whose behaviour therefore is interpretable”.
Well, what do you think?
It’s sad to read this, but it was always going to come sooner or later…but I agree with all the other posters who say this isn’t the end but the beginning of a new chapter. Now you can concentrate less on notches and flags and just do what makes you happy. Wherever you go from here, you’ll be paving a road for others to follow and/or learn from.
And by the way don’t sweat the grey hairs…pretty soon you’re going to look like the Most Interesting Man in the World, and actually be more interesting than he is hahaha
so in the end was this puusy worth ruining your future over it?
Roosh, if you were to leave the game alot of people would be very sad, not even sarcastic. A wave of depression will spread among alphas worldwide, as your writing has helped so many.
So dammit monkey keep dancing till your legs fall off!!
In all seriousness, follow your heart. You dont need to fuck a new girl every night, or even keep this blog going. You are the alpha!
You’re ready for a sexual fetish.
“Going after 8s 9s and 10s exclusively. Getting women from a social strata that most non-wealthy men will never gain access to.”
I don’t think that’s a good idea for Roosh.
These women would take a lot more effort to bang, and a lot lesser chance of success per approach. And the reward – still just some fucking pussy, as MadMax put it.
This would just skew the effort-reward profile even further, and I think the whole reason why Roosh got tired of the game was that the reward was just not worth it vs. the effort anymore.
Where are $27 good looking prostitutes?
Gaming for validation is not good , but I guess everyone who gets into this is guilty of that at least at the beginning.
“These women would take a lot more effort to bang, and a lot lesser chance of success per approach. And the reward – still just some fucking pussy, as MadMax put it.
This would just skew the effort-reward profile even further, and I think the whole reason why Roosh got tired of the game was that the reward was just not worth it vs. the effort anymore.”
I gotta say, that puts it in a different perspective, and sadly, I feel you are right.
UNLESS: he proves those women are just as easy to bang as club 7s. Now THAT would be a breakthrough in game. Cracking the code of the hottest, richest, most stuck up bitches in high society. Showing men that you don’t need any money at all to bang these gold diggers.
Frankly, I’ve been wondering for years why we’re all still trying get laid by conventional means (luck, game, social circle, etc.). Even once you achieve this victory, it is a very hollow victory.. when you get there, you say to yourself: “that’s all?, fuck”
Since fucking women is fee for service, however you cut it (refer to Roosh’s Cost Per Notch, etc.). I say just pay for the sex, have your orgasm, move on.. and go change the world like men of this world were meant to do.
The world ain’t gonna change itself, and women will never do it; they’re simply not equipped. All the rest is a just a waste of time, and a distraction.
You are a great writer. Write about a different topic!
OMFG CHECK THIS OUT!!!!
ROOSH IS ON BADOO!!!
so take a break
everyone needs variety
Well, I think you’re just encountering losing your youth, nothing more than that. Although you’re not old, you realize that the carefree ‘everything is ahead’ time is over. You begin to think what your purpose in life really is, how can you make an imprint on life?
You see people you grew up with either having kids or working on climbing the power ladder. You start to understand that unless you being doing something more substantial, those people are going to form the world for the next many years. Do you really want those people running the shots and outbreeding you?
The next pursuit should be about power. Make your contribution to driving humanity forward in whatever way you can and want. Take the chance to fill the void when all those baby boomers and their horrible legacy die off.
Lets move man into space, destroy totalitarian states, create new groups of anarchist, freedom loving people. Get five new mini-rooshes to carry on your legacy. Life is short, don’t worry about getting divorced and stuff. Just hide your assets offshore.
That’s my plan at 30.
I know about being the dancing monkey, Roosh.
When the time comes, set yourself free.
The world will keep turning.
Roosh darling, have you ever heard of ‘taking a short break’? You do this full time (literally, it’s your work too) for a few years now.
Just take a break for a few weeks, it’s normal to get exhausted or burned out. No matter what your endeavor is.
Pretty basic really. No need for all the drama you created around it. Totally out of proportion.
Hey MADMAX, after reading ur post we have developped a great interest in u…plz write a hobbyist blog for us lazy fucks!!! FapHoe.wordpress.com
It’s good to see the human side of the famous, bigger-than-life Roosh!
I think it’s only natural, to change your priorities every couple years or so.
Maybe you’ll find your new holy grail in teaching guys? maybe you’ll enjoy inspiring legions of men to leave their comfort zone even more?
Whatever you choose, I’m sure you’ll make a smart choice. You’ve proved to us time & time again, that you don’t give a damn what society thinks and you choose for yourself, and choose well. :)
And I know something about the challenges of making important life decisons: http://en.maciejrajk.eu/decide-quickly/
I sense that more than having done it all/fuck it all or mastered your current level, I think your lack of motivation is due also to feeling as if you have reached a plateau and dont know how to breakthrough. It could be a mix of both.
Assuming you have reached the highest of levels, your goal now should be to maintain that high level of performance. After reaching the highest level I would say that one of the most important skills of an advanced PUA is the ability to manipulate his sex drive, which above 30 and with your accomplishments starts to be a challenge as it shows in your post.
I know because I am exactly where you are at the moment. Just turned 30 and when I see a hot girl it reminds me of that hot girl that looks like her that I fucked a couple of months/years ago.
Supplements and habits to maintain high sex drive that I use are: (Perhaps you need to get better technology here and/or innovate)
Coffee, creatine, short cycles of small doses of oral steroids followed by its approapiate PCT, cabergoline (Dostinex at 0.25mg/week), a nice massage and a afternoon at a spa every 2-3 months, weekly cardio, movie night once a week to completely relax,
Taking breaks (lets say 1 month off after 6 months/1 yrs of solid gaming, 3 months after 2-3 yrs of solid gaming) and get hooked into clubbing again is also something I do
Get over all the negative incidents with the girls and keep going towards your goals. Accept the negative incidents as part of the game (see it as the variance of poker).
Remember the things you enjoy the most out of pickup and describe it vividly to yourself. For example, I live in Scandinavia and everytime I get stuck thinking about all the negative incidents I have gone through while gaming (trust me there has been plenty)I remember what I would miss the most if I ever quit the game:
Walking my favorite street at night with a cute/girly/strong (love their quiet anger) nordic girl, holding their pretty hands, looking at their beautiful big blue/green eyes, hearing their cute/soft accent when they speak, smelling their sweet hair, taking them to my room, taking their cute panties off, spanking them, putting their cute hands in my dick and making them rub it and make it hard while i kiss them, sliding my dick without condom in their wet pussy and coming so hard inside their yummy pussies after pulling their long thick beautiful blonde hair and slapping their perfect asses while doing them doggystyle, letting them ride my dick while i slap their beautiful pefect tits and face, grabbing their necks and shutting their mouths as if I was raping them, and talk dirty to them while watching their perfect bodies going up and down on top of me, and finishing missionary while holding them by their waist and shutting their mouths as if making them quiet…You get the idea, remind yourself of the little things/details that will make you nostalgic when you are old (say 75-80yrs old_ and unable to go out and pick up girls. I also hope you keep an album with pictures of all the girls you have fucked (Doesnt have to be naked pics you take of them, just their best pics you find online/facebook)
Now…Time to get game related goals (These are actually my goals at the moment):
-Improve the quality and/or the easiness of pick up of the girls you fuck. We all know picking up girls at the clubs is a fucking grind so I think its time advanced PUAs start INNOVATING to make things easier. Daygame and online dating are also a fucking grind.
-Being able to pull consistently from daygame
-Being able to pull consistently from online dating
-10 girls in rotation from that keep coming back as booty calls/fuck buddies/mini relationships by fucking them well, no deep conversations, leaving early. Start with 2, then 3 and so on..This is still quite challenging
-A stable girlfriend
When it comes to the above goals I feel as if I have reached a plateau myself and feel that in order to breakthrough to the higher level I have nothing left but to try an become decently famous/achieve high status in society, in my case (and I think you are a perfect candidate for this too), by designing a more interesting lifestyle through creating a company unrelated to pick up- a digital or physical product or service)
If I make it with my project/company, I will have lots of interesting and well connected friends (which you might be lacking since blogging can be quite lonely I presume) , I will have a professional identity (which I feel you are sort of lacking too), I will get immersed completely into society, I will have plenty of money (a nice car and an appartment), I will travel the world taking my product, etc. And in the end, in order to keep a 10 in your life for a long time you need to have a lifestyle that she would want to be a part of.
You could find a regular girl (lets say a 6.5) and turn her into the girl you want (lets say a 8.5) but I feel that is coming from a point of scarcity and doesnt really broaden your ability to choose/PUA power.
Also, dont view picking up girls as a phase, see it as a cool hobby that you can do as long as you please
Lastly, if the fear of catching some STD is also in the back of your mind (trust me that thought as made me slow down every once in a while :) understand that promiscuity has its risks and there is nothing you can do about that.
Fucking hookers, coaching PUA, starting a feminist social movement, getting hobbies, are not really game-related goals, but they can indirectly impact your game for sure.
Well, I see an overtraining condition here… ;)
Where is the dwarf erotica coming from?I think its funny.written by a woman? It just keeps going but is nicely evocative. Its so sad to me that women anywhere have yo have sex for money. Wed all b better together if that wasn’t part of the calculus.
there just really aint that much to life man we cant fly but yea i guess make sure you experience what you can get out of it at least
[...] many PUAs from the manosphere have sex with women to get validation from other guys. As an example, Roosh said : There were girls I banged just so I could send a “+1″ text to my friends and get validated by [...]
Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then…
An eloquent writer, and definitely a thinker even to those who might not fully share his views.
I think this is a normal development for master pua’s; Krauser too sounds like signing off. Too much candy can put you off candy, or even to value it less if it is easily available.
But carry on your journey; whether this is a pause before continuation, or a new direction. We like your writings, your thoughts, your personal changes.
Where ever you go , take us with you!
Hey Roosh, are you going to write/publish Bang Romania soon?