I seem to post my later game adventures on Roosh V Forums, but I realize that the write ups are good enough that you gentlemen who follow my adventures might find these exciting. So I’ve compiled three of my most recent ones for your reading pleasure. ALL IN ONE PACKAGE. (These are the original posts from RVF, but I’ve fixed various spelling mistakes in my writing and added some details that I forgot in my initial write ups).
Fucking On The Park Dock
I’m wasted boys.
I ended up going to the park with my close friend and we drank until midnight. This gorgeous blonde (8.5/10) and her hippie roomate come over and mistaken me for her weed dealer. I tell her to sit down because we needed a female opinion on some bullshit argument we were having. She bought it. Classic pick up bullshit. She vibes with us and I can tell she is taking a liking to me; her room mate is all sorts of weird – he has some weird protective crush on her. I keep joking with her, telling her ridiculous things, and taking none of her shit tests seriously; “You think you’re so attractive, don’t you?” I smirk, “well that’s what my mother says.” After awhile of building rapport with her, I write on the notes app in my phone: “Come for an adventure on the town. My apologies, but your boyfriend seems wasted; I’m sure the night will be fun.” She laughs as I pass her my phone, and writes back “first off hes not my boyfriend and second I don’t have ID.” I write back “ID is irrelevant, come have fun.” She whispers in my ear “Lets go soon.” I don’t expect this part: she gets up, looks at her weird beta bitch boy room mate and tells him she’s leaving and he gets mad that she’s leaving with two random dudes she just met; she says loudly “I don’t fucking care if you have feelings for me, get over it. I don’t like you like that. I’m single, and I’m going to have fun.” I’m feeling mediocre about her weird actions, and I walk away with my friend. I want more liquor. She follows and apologizes for the scene she made. I bring my friend and her to a quaint little bar and she happens to know some people there. I leave her with her friends and have some more drinks with my friend. My friend and I are having a good time. She sits beside me and tells me that she finds me really attractive. I don’t say a word. I continue flirting with her, and I decide to challenge her to a thumb war. She laughs, accepts, and I beat her at the thumb war. She starts giggling and I lean in and make out with her.
We leave the bar, and I tell my buddy we should run a train on her. He tells me she’s not feeling him. Turns out my drunken judgement is off, I don’t think she is feeling him. I give him cab fare home and tell him I’m sorry he couldn’t crash at my place. I end up telling her about a unique spot I love to sit at night at. She tells me she’s excited to see it; she goes on again about how attractive I am. I take a short cut to my magic spot by going through an alley way. We stop in the alley way and I finger her while making out with her. We continue on her way, and I bring her to my magic spot: it’s a dock in the park I smoke cigars at some time. It’s late and I start making out with her. She is giggling and I start to finger her again. She keeps asking if she’ll get caught, I tell her “who cares, take your pants off” and then grab her neck and start kissing her lips. She takes her pants off, and I start to rail her. The police are literally flashing their lights across the dock from us, but I don’t think they see us. Nerves got the best of me and I end up letting her cum and pull out without busting my nut. She giggles and kisses me and then we get dressed quickly and leave.
I bring her home intending to bust my nut, but she starts freaking out that her hippie room mate is home and will be upset that she went out with a guy. As we’re walking some gentleman screams in my direction, but I ignore it. The gentlemen keeps screaming, “HEY FUCKER! I’M IN THE ARMY. I’M TALKING TO YOU.” His tone pissed me off, and I stop in my tracks and tell him to come here if he has an issue. I stand my ground and she starts crying in my arms. He feels bad that he made her cry, apologizes and goes on his way. She says, “I didn’t want to see you hurt someone or get hurt. You were scary!” I only knew this chick for four hours at this point, and she acted like my girlfriend or something. Kind of weird. She insists she gets my Facebook, but I tell her I don’t believe in it and insist she emails me instead. I give her a bogus email and go on my way.
What an exciting night.
The Twenty-Nine Year Old Party Slut
This adventure made me realize time and time again that late twenties women are easy as fuck to game; presumably some biological realization that their sexual power is fading.
Her body was immaculate, but lost points for a mediocre face. A solid 8 out of 10. The second I walked into the party she was eye fucking me. I brought a 40 of olde english and she eventually comments on it, “are you really drinking those? that’s so high school!” I smirk and we cheers. I walk away from her, but she eventually follows and asks me how I know everyone there. I switch gears and I keep asking her “why” questions about herself. Somehow the topic of ages comes up and I ask her to guess how old I am. She says “31, 32?” I tell her she’s way off, and that I’m only 24. She is 29 but she seems disappointed at my age. I ask her where her walker is, and she laughs, then I ask “so how was world war 2?” She says “I heard you make the joke to someone else earlier in the night, it wasn’t funny then, and it’s not funny now.” I bounce back, “yeah, well there goes two nights of joke writing, wasted. But, atleast my mom thinks I’m funny” (I get a lot of mileage out of this silly “at least my mom thinks…” joke). She laughs and at this point we’re both fairly drunk. I bring her to the basement where she is staying the night, we talk about some stupid shit, and I end up cutting her off and making out with her.
She removes her shirt and bra, and I don’t know why this chick wore such a tight bra because her breasts are massive. This large breast size is made sexier by the fact that she has such a slim stomach and waist. I slap a jimmy on and I start fucking her. I tell her she has such a tight pussy and body (she did). She swoons to this statement, “It’s so nice to hear a younger guy say that” (she must have repeated a variation of this statement five or six times); chick must be realizing her sexual market value is going to plummet soon. The fact she didn’t shave her pussy though has me assume that she hadn’t been fucked in awhile. I continue railing her, she starts riding my cock, and like we are in college or some shit, she’s drinking a beer as she’s riding my dick. She gets off of me, takes my condom off, and then she proceeds to deep throats my dick. Not boasting gentlemen, but my cock is pretty big, so the fact she managed to take it down her throat to the base of my cock was an impressive feat. She gets back on top of my dick, but I forget I don’t have a condom on, but at this point her pussy feels even more incredible. I end up telling her to get on her back, and I bust in her mouth, she swallows it without even flinching. What a slut.
I know some of you gentlemen are opposed to condoms, but I am in a long term relationship, so out of respect I wear a condom if I’m going to engage in extra curricular activities. So her getting on top of my dick for that little bit minus a condom was kind of shitty. Regardless, I was actually under the impression she was the same age as me, but as I said above, makes me realize that late twenties women are easy as pie to fuck. While I did “game” this girl with traditional methods, it was definitely made easy by the fact that unlike a younger twenties girl, this girl showed active and immediate interest which always kept interaction in my favour. This pattern has followed with any other late twenties woman I’ve banged as well.
Chicks values be fading.
The Out of Town Five
Well. I railed some broad… She was a 5/10 at best. Not the proudest moment as I have never dipped below what I would deem a 6…
Met her on Tinder and she drove an hour away just to see me. Her profile pictures were devious. Must have been old pictures on her profile. When I sat in her car, I scan her body, and she did not look slim like in her picture. Her chunky demeanour seriously brought her rating from a hard 7 to a solid 5. Despite my hard demeanour gentlemen, I am a reasonable person, so part of me felt obligated to spend some time with her since she invested time to drive so far *cue beta bells.* Cute face, nice perky large tits, but a really chunky body – fuck it I figured I might as-well get something for my time, and so I went for it. I railed the fuck out of this chunky chick. Excuse my fragile ego, but I have never banged a girl lower then what I deemed a 7. So fucking a really chunky chick felt slightly embarrassing, but I was horny and she was available; she definitely wanted to get her pussy pounded.
So, I did porn star shit: deep throat, hardcore choking, spitting on her, slapped her, even slipped it in her ass – she’s never done anal. She loved it; what a whore. So I ended up busting a nut in the condom, and then made her eat it. I tell her to put on a movie while I smoke my cigars in her apartment. She puts on some terrible romantic comedy I entirely forget the name of. Regardless, I was still horny ten minutes later so I got her to give me a tit job and suck my dick for an hour. I nutted on her face and got her to clean my cock up after with a fresh towel.
As the cum sat on her face she tells me, “I’ve never had anyone treat me like that. That was incredible.”
In some way, after this adventure I was weirdly motivated to approach more then ever, but also oddly satisfied with the encounter.
I remember a female friend of mine back in high school told me I was ugly. She told me I was a nerd and that maybe one day I would be attractive. Maybe. That lingered with me, and that pain followed me for a long time. I remember feeling a crippling anxiety take over me. I went to my house, sauntered past my mother, went into my bedroom and balled my eyes out. I remember going to sleep right after my cry-fest and waking up with a outlook I did not want to believe: I was a fucking chump; some lame mother-fucking clown was what I became to women. I hit rock bottom, my confidence plummeted for awhile here, more than it already was, but something changed inside me. I was fucking pissed. Not only at her, but at myself, and at my station in life.
During my high school year, I wasn’t unpopular, but I wasn’t the guy girls were swooning over either. The girls who showed interest in me were just as awkward as I was, not to mention they were far from lookers. I suffered from crippling anxiety, getting up in the morning and knowing I’d have to face people made my stomach turn. This anxiety became a shitty cycle however, because I felt like over talking and being obnoxious would alleviate the anxiety, and when someone would call me out for being annoying as fuck, I would linger on that persons comments for months, and this would make my anxiety worse; this same cycle continued to repeat itself throughout high school. I remember a girl asking me a basic question, a girl who I had only spoken to a handful of times prior, and I responded with “your mom” because I thought this would get her to laugh and like me. She looked confused, and told me “you’re weird.” I remember lingering on that feeling of being called weird for almost a year, and wondering what it was I was doing wrong with women, and people in general. See, at this time anxiety was not something I understood beyond it being a natural state of who I was; this state kept me in a rut of fear and awkwardness. That girl who called me ugly though, she really helped put things into a different perspective, she made me realize that everything I was doing was wrong, that my approach of being obnoxious and over talkative was not attractive, that my slender frame was weak, my ideologies were weak, and my overall approach to life, was weak.
I woke up from that nap, and realized I needed to change. It wasn’t an over night process, this took years for me. One of the first things I did was quit this silly vegetarian diet I had been on for almost ten years, which turned out to be one of the best choices I have ever made; at this point I always worked out, but starting to get more protein intake from meat sources made me rapidly bulk up. Within less than a year, I went from a scrawny little guy to being large and muscular. This change in size built a level of confidence I didn’t have before, and I started becoming less fearful of others. In addition to these body changes, I started focusing on my style. I bought more fitted clothes, wore nice shoes, and ditched the glasses. Ditching the glasses, like becoming a meat eater again, was a paramount change. Turns out the same frames I wore since I was ten up until that point really narrowed my face out, and made my eyes look weird. Wearing contacts showed off my eyes, and started to give my face a more shapely look. For the first time in my life, I felt attractive. Fresh off my new found confidence, I started to realize that all these ideas I had about people and the world were wrong; I started to face things head on and when I did, I realized my fears were irrational. The more I feared something, the more I pushed myself to approach it. Now, while the physical changes helped, this battle was still mostly a psychological one, and even with approaching situations head on, I still had the lingering insecurities that I was not good enough, that I was ugly, that I was weak. It sounds weird, but reading seemed to help me get over these insecurities. I started learning many social-oriented subjects (Psychology, Endocrinology, Criminology, etc) on my own, feeling like I was becoming a better human each time I discovered something new about these subjects, because I realized I was able to relate a lot of these ideas to myself.
Still, it was not enough just to become more physically attractive and more intelligent, and while what I’m about to say may sound unconventional, I needed validation. I started getting female attention for the first time in my life at around 19. I remember staring into her eyes fantasizing about how much I wanted to fuck her, we made out for awhile, and I started undressing her. She stops my advances, looks at me, and tells me “You’re really hot, but I don’t want you thinking I’m easy.” I know this seems trivial, but hearing that a girl thought I was hot, it became an addiction. It became an addiction to know I was attractive, to know I was worth it. Of course, the issue here is that it’s easy to get into a rut of only ever being valuable when people give you value, and that’s what happened for a time. I think though, I needed that time to build myself up to the person I am now. In a way, I needed to get the validation that I wasn’t a loser from every girl I met in order to get over the invalidation of the first girl who called me ugly.
I saw the girl who called me ugly a couple years after I set my change in motion. I remember thinking to myself, “I’ve progressed so much, do you think she’ll call you those things now? Do you think she’ll comment on how much you’ve changed?” I spoke to her briefly, expecting her to comment on my large frame, my confident posture, and tasteful style, and she did not say anything about any of these changes. In fact, she was completely indifferent to my changes. I left and realized something profound, that moment that set all of these moments into motion, was insignificant to her. A moment that triggered positive moments for myself, meant nothing to her. This realization was the final puzzle piece in getting over myself, and realizing validation meant nothing. I finally saw that validation was nothing, and that you can only count on yourself for happiness.
I think back to that day of that girl calling me ugly, and ask myself how I would handle something like that if it happened now?
I’d give her a cold stare, and move on with my life.
Way back when, when I was just a little Route Backwards, I tried this whole game thing. Yeah, that game thing that was about talking to women and hoping that with or without a bottle of whisky their toned legs would spread so your cock could bust it’s seed into the warm wet confines of a females reproductive organs. I have a slew of early game stories, that star me, my delicious friend Heineken, my cock and the women that my cock told me to talk to. However fine Gentleman Smoke reader, these stories are not without hurdles and failure, and are loaded with anti-game, but it is those hurdles and failures that brought me to being the person I am now, a gentleman of game. I will run this series of Early Game Adventures to highlight my failures as a means to understand common pitfalls many gentlemen have in game.
The Halloween Attempts
I had read bit and pieces of Double Your Dating at this point, and I would have been a freshly turned ninteen year old gentlemen here, but with my level of confidence at this point I was still stuck on the pedastalization of any woman who even looked at me, but turns out liquid courage said fuck you to the pedastal, and instead, said hello to awkward backhanded compliments.
It’s Halloween and I’m at this small, yet classy, little bar. I’m sipping on my delicious Heineken and situated in a high traffic seating spot that just so happens to have flocks of women coming and going. Some cute blonde females sit next to me, but her friend left for whatever reason friends leave their friends behind for, and as I’m trying to muster up the courage to say something witty to her (i.e. drink more Heineken), she beats me to the punch and asks me a question I don’t remember, it was something trivial but I was excited that female talked to me first, so I continued making small talk; I bored the fuck out of her and she left.
At this point I realized that failure was not that bad, and I had one too many pints of that delicious Heineken nectar, and I told myself I was going to really try hard with the next girl who sat near me. In Halloween spirit I look to the left of me and see a group of women walk in wearing skimpy Halloween outfits with some dressed as cats, and others dressed as slutty cops. How original. Of course, my beautiful choice of seating leads these women to sitting right beside me. The girl closest to me, who is dressed as a cat by the way, sits down and instantly starts looking through her phone. She is sipping a martini, it looks delicious. Instead of little RouteBackwards commenting on how delicious said martini is, and how he appreciates her fine taste in three dollar martinis, RouteBackwards Jr. instead awkwardly says, “Your costume is weird.” The trembling in RouteBackwards Jr.’s voice was the mark of an amateur, and her cat like instincts could smell Backward’s weakness, she looks disgusted, turns to her friend and then stares at the wall ahead of her and stently says, “Ok.” Little Backward’s is not a quitter though, no, he is a reflection of Heineken’s stumbling narrative, and Little Backwards chimes in quickly, “What are you supposed to be?” Cat lady looks noticably awkward and annoyed, she forcefully says, “an animal.” Backwards Jr is lost in a cloud of Heineken, and responds with the most charming response his alcohol flooded brain can think of, “What’s that?” She and her friends walk away.
Little Backwards kept drinking himself into a anti-game stupour for the rest of the night.
Things I Learned This Night:
– Don’t force interactions to the point of killing them. The issue I had at this point was always forcing conversation with the hopes that the girl would not leave. While some gentleman may disagree, it IS ok to force conversation IF you feel like you have not built a strong enough connection at the point that the conversation is going, but you do know there is a connection. In this case, there were no connections, other then mine to that delicious Heineken brew.
– Don’t be negative off the jump. With the second lady that I spoke to this night, I said a remark that was pretty rude. While it is easy to blame Heineken, which is absolutely delicious by the way, this is lame game that is only going to ruin your chances for future pussy access.
– Heineken is delicious, but also reeks of anti-game. Alcohol is a good game booster in certain situations, but for the most part, and especially at this point in my game, it will ruin your chances. I was not able to calibrate where alcohol fit best with my game at this point, so I was overdrinking in hopes of getting over approach anxiety, striking out, then refelcting on my strike out’s and concluding that I would never get good enough at game because all I could recall in my game experiences were drunken strike-outs. However, now, if I drink it’s to stay tipsy, and keep juggling that feelin. Back then though, and the same fate for many other RouteBackwards minded gentlemen, is to keep drinking until anxiety goes away, but with that feeling of anxiety disappearing, anti-game takes it’s place. Then again, I do love Heineken more than most women, so if you are content with Mr. Heineken, then by any means, stick to that delicious option.
FUCK BITCHES, DRINK HEINEKEN.
My father was an alpha male. A mans man was how most people described him. Unfortunately I only got a glimpse of his alphaness; my father died when I was very young. My mother did not anticipate this, and she did her best to raise five children on her own. My mother was always close to her mother so a lot of my upbringing was influenced by my grandmother. Unfortunately my grandmother was a whore her whole life, and in turn a feminist-type who believed that masculine men were what was wrong with society, and that effeminate men were the right model of what being a man should be.
Even before my father passed, I was a very emotional child. I embodied peoples pain by simple glances. I learned I was emotionally gifted. Being emotionally gifted is the single biggest challenge I have ever faced in my life, because social situations can not only liven me up within seconds of me entering them, but they can also drain me just as quick and push me into avoiding them all together. My grandmother, whether she was consciously aware of it or not, tried to mold me into what feminists everywhere would say is the perfect little boy. A pussy.
With that being said, I am still my fathers son. I do believe heredity influenced a lot of my urges and demeanor, and in turn I would gawk at women in bikinis or get into a scuffle with children at school. My grandmother made me feel bad about finding women attractive, and she made me feel bad about defending myself physically when it came to schoolyard bullies. To her that was wrong and I was simply a victim of societies idea of manhood. I believed this, and spent much of my youth basking in the emotional intensities of my environment. My mother respected my grandmothers opinion and agreed with a lot of what my grandmother would tell me.
High school was hell. I either avoided women at all costs because I was afraid I would say something wrong to offend them, or I would get “let’s just be friends” from the ones that I did talk to. I did not understand, I thought me being more emotionally receptive and outwardly focused on peoples well being that I was the female dream. My grandmother had me believe this, and my mother assumed I would find the “one.”
Having an older brother who did take the alpha traits of my father did help me. I would start talking more crudely to women, but that just made me seem weird to them, because no matter how much I wanted to tease or charm them, I internalized the feminist notion of feminine being the most right way to be. Of course my older brother would belittle my feminine behavior, and I believed that it was the fact that he lost our father that he acted that way and that I was lucky to not have experienced as much of my father as he did since I was on the “right” route to manhood.
Until one summer day two of the females who “let’s-just-be-friends’ed” me, and a couple other beta-bitch-boy orbiters, were walking to grab food after school. The two females are discussing how they are seeing these new guys and to some degree I am jealous because I wished for either of them that I was that guy. I awkwardly laugh and try to offer support in the form of “that’s great guys!” The one female turns to me and says. “You’re never going to get a girlfriend are you?” and she laughs, and continues, “Well like, maybe one day a girl will find you attractive enough to date you.” The other girl tells her that’s mean, and at that moment I felt like I was about to cry. I cut our meal short and headed home. I was no longer sad. I was pissed off.
For the first time I realized that the feminine idea of being a man was wrong, and I realized I was a joke to women because of it. For awhile I still endured being belittled by this same female, but I started to internalize that as a motivation to do something with my sex life. I started ignoring her banter, but I was still lost. I did not know what the fuck to do with myself as much as I knew I wanted to do something.
One lonely Saturday I did a quick internet search of, “how to get out of the friendzone.” I believe I found an article by David DeAngelo. This changed my life. I quickly saved it and then found David DeAngelo’s Double Your Dating book. Neg theory was eye opening. I already had the idea of “negging” when I was younger, but I was told that was wrong. Then I read The Game, and I was set. I realized everything I was told to suppress, I already had and it was only a matter of learning to utilize them.
While I certainly learned about game and learned different methods to approaching it, I knew deep down inside I already had these natural urges and charm. While some use game material for personality building, I used it to help me uncover what my personality always was and be confident with using it.
It helped me take a route backwards to who I always was. I started selling weed, buying nicer clothes, taking care of my appearance, working out and generally try being more social with women. The time I invested started to pay off, and I realized for the first time in my life that I could be liked by women. It was a high I never thought I would feel, and one I now cannot live without. I’ve failed a lot, and I still get rejected even now, but through the rejection, I have gained acceptance. Not just acceptance from women, but acceptance from myself in knowing that I have all the tools to accomplish what I need to do in life. Through it all, I would like to stress that I am not some ridiculous pick up artist who grabs women with a single glance, but I do well enough to feel confident in what I preach, and confident in feeling attractive to women and being content with myself.
My grandmother will see my posts on various social networking sites and act disgusted, or respond to what I write about as being misogynistic, but I realize she is just a slave to the society that raised her. She is going through the motions to reinforce her agenda of feminine superiority, and while I love the woman, I realize that our values do not match and because of that we will never be on a level the suggests a family unit beyond biology. My mother however, she loves me unconditionally and appreciates the route I have embarked on as a man, and I will always hold her dearly because of that.
Now, while that female who hurt me ages ago snarks at the route I have traveled on, In some way I must thank her. For without her throwing me into the pits of depression, I would not have climbed out as a knowledgeable gentleman of game. This route has given me personal growth, fulfillment and a sense of worth as a human being, and most importantly, it has given me fulfillment as a man. While some spit on this route, and wish that I would have turned around, I was determined to get to my destination, and the destination has been far more fulfilling than any praise I have received from acting feminine.
The route backwards has been the best thing I have ever embarked on.
I met this female at a small, but classy, bar that I frequent. She was a solid eight, and she had a way about her that was incredibly open but could chew out lesser males at any moment. She was also older than me by six years, which to her was her way of staying dominant over me. Regardless I persisted, I opened her, we talked about science and I would throw in the occasional joke or witticism.
As the conversation progressed it turned out that she was a professor at a University I was soon to attend and that she was, in her own words, a “self proclaimed feminist.” She then went on to tell me how most men are intimidated by that, to which I responded: “I’m not most men.” I gave a cocky smirk and continued to speak to her about a scientific article that peaked my interest earlier that day… and she kept trying to bring the conversation back to her feminist ideologies, and I would keep ignoring them.
My lack of care for her feminist beliefs seemed to bother her, and she started trying to belittle me and my knowledge of science. I laughed, and told her I thought it was cute that I got her upset. She seemed a bit more upset, and then I told her she sips on her drink like a girl, and proceeded to joke that she was not really a feminist and that she should stop pretending. This calmed her down a bit.
I put my drink down and grabbed her hand and told her that this place was getting lame, lets go down the street to somewhere more exciting. She complied and off we went. On the walk she kept throwing shit tests at me, more than I had ever encountered from a female, and I brushed them off either by ignoring them, or through a cocky witticism that most definitely had her pussy lips salivating for my cock.
She starts to poke at the age difference. I ignore it, but she starts going full force. “Awww you’re just a little guy!” I start walking ahead of her and say: “Grandma, I don’t know if your brittle legs can keep up, but lets get a move on!” not my finest display of charm, but it was fine enough for her to give me the make out gaze. I stop and make out with her in the street. I can tell by the way she is pulling me in she wants to fuck.
I invite her back to my place under the guise that I am only going to show her my artwork and then kick her out afterwards. Somehow I forget to show her my artwork… Right? and we get right to making out. I get her undressed down to her bra and panties. Her body is even sexier than I thought, her point level goes up a notch at this point. I unhook her bra, play with her perky tits, but she stops. She pushes me off her and tells me that she has to leave. I smile and say: “but we’re having so much fun, plus I’m going to fuck the shit out of your pussy.” I no longer care about being charming, nor witty, I want the kill, and if she wants it to happen slowly, then I am up for the challenge.
We resume making out, but she puts her bra back on. Not a good sign. She tells me she has never had sex so soon after meeting someone, and tells me how she is not that type of girl and that she should not be here. Turns out all feminists read the memo about last minute resistance. I take her bra off again and start kissing her back. This eases her. She gets into it and lets out the moaning sounds that signal sex.
Then she starts to resist again. I have never dealt with so much resistance from a woman after having her undressed and in a position like this. She tells me that she has to wake up early and that she should get going soon, she stands up and we start kissing again. I tell myself: “Fuck it! I’m going to bang this chick.” I pick her up un-expectadly and throw her on to my bed. Without pause I pull her panties off, she lets out a seductive smile, and starts kissing me and then starts to suck on my dick.
Without giving you a documentary about the adventure my penis went on that night, I absolutely fucked the shit out of her. I continued to do so for another two months, and every time she put up some sort of resistance, and since this event I have only experienced large resistance with women who are “self proclaimed feminists.”
Moral of the story…
ALWAYS dominate feminists, NEVER let your manhood slip up, not even once, and you will be parting her pussy in no time.