Missing Pages of a Playboy's Journal by AYOO

I poked her with my erection as the sun rose but she didn’t reciprocate, so I was even hornier than the night before when she gave me two orgasms, maybe three. I could have released the horniness later with a begged tug session, but there’s no glory in that. I’d have to go out again and hunt for a new girl. As my instinct lead me to


I kept a light work schedule, skipped my usual gym and recreational work-out schedule, and took a long two-hour nap, but I still felt groggy. My body used to have an easier time handling the hunt. Not long ago I could go out three or four nights in a row with only a small degradation in my energy, but now even two nights in a row is a challenge. The last thing I wanted to do was flirt with girls, but the pressure in my ball sack could not be ignored. It demanded action that didn’t involve my right hand.

I started in a bar that was having karaoke night, in the mall complex opposite my house. It was almost 11pm and I hadn’t talked to anyone for most of the day. I didn’t want to think of the huge hurdle in front of me, of not only warming up to be social, but finding an attractive girl and then seducing her within a matter of hours to end the process with a successful instance of sweet sweet FORNICATION.

There was a trio of girls near me. The bar had no dance floor or loud music to create a natural separation between groups, meaning patrons tended to have deeper conversations, apparently I was in a non enabling environment. I approached the three with a warm up: “Do you know if there’s another good bar around here?” with a smugish smile on my face

The girl I liked responded, but she had one eye on me and one eye on her friends, batting her eyes compulsively just like I expected. After two minutes of chatter, she showed not more than minimal interest. I ejected. Saving my energy for a worthwhile prey, rather girl. The bar would be decent if I had at least one other amazing wingman, or several average wingmen,  but rolling solo in this type of environment was not optimal. I left for the club.

The previous night I fucked a girl whose face was pretty cute but whose body was average. It’s usually the opposite in ilorin. I try not to bang sequential girls with the same flaw, so I found a girl with a fit frame. She told me she was 19 year old and had a boyfriend. I’ve been burned many times pursuing girls with boyfriends, but such a large percentage of girls have them that it’s worth trying to crack it every now and then. I tried a new routine to destroy the boyfriend:

“I’m actually glad you have a boyfriend. Every girl should have one to satisfy her emotional needs. He should talk to her every day, help her with her problems, make her feel better about life, and give her compliments. I don’t know how to do those things, so if a girl has a boyfriend, that makes it easier for me. I can give her excitement and adventure.” The routine evolved around that idea

It wasn’t a horrible first attempt, but it seemed too obvious and blatant. I needed to sell my offering through a story instead, maybe how one of the best relationships I had was with a girl who already had her emotional needs attended to by a beta. The girl responded neutrally, and we did talk for a while longer, but eventually she left for the dance floor with her friends.

Not long after, a tall girl came within my view. Her body checked out so I said, “I’m taller than you.” She frowned and replied, “Okay Yeah, so?”

“I bet you came to the club thinking you’d be the tallest, but… you’re not.”

She smiled and then I noticed her shorter friend, with full fringe hairstyle on with a cute face but chubby body. I sensed she liked me, I instantly decided to call her "kuru ki - short and heavy" in my head,  Without any respect for the tall friend I approached first, she weaseled her way into the conversation and initiated touching on my hairy arm. I love a girl audacity and courage but I love a girl with a hotter body more, I guess

To the kuru ki’s credit, she was much more interesting and lively than her beanpole friend. Though the Kuru-ki’s body was subpar, with a similar flaw to the girl from the night before, my boner awakened and approved of the meat cut that was before it.

All ego aside, I’d say my overall value in ilorin is an 8 out of 10. The two points I’m missing stem from not knowing places in ilorin, lacking exposure here and not having any local status that would come from professional or social connections. The Kuru ki girl was a 6. When I go two points underneath my value, I know that not only will it be easy, but she will go out of her way to provide me with sensual pleasures that girls in the 8 and above range often don’t bother to do.

The kuru ki girl named "Praise" at least that's what she told me, invited me to the dance floor where she quickly assumed the position of her ass on my crotch. Her skirt had an outer shell resembling a disco ball, with thousands of plastic squares covering it, so I couldn’t properly feel the consistency of her ass. I got a boner nonetheless and stood motionless making prolonged eye contact with other men and women while she furiously grinded on my crotch.

We made out not long after that and she put extra attention into kissing my neck, a dying behavior in the loveless world of casual hookups. With the grind and the kissing and the lewd touching, she was giving me way more sexual pleasure than the last beautiful girl I was with, who assumed my crotch came with an electronic pump mechanism that yielded a boner from her plain gaze alone.

We found her friend moping at the bar. I suggested we change the venue, hoping that I could isolate praise to my apartment. This, unfortunately, did not go according to plan. At the next bar, I had to entertain both at the same time, decreasing the sexual connection between me and praise I also learned that they were roommates and came out with only one key. Praise lost her key or some other such nonsense and couldn’t separate from her friend.

“How exactly do you not have your own key?” I asked, frustrated.

“Because we live together! There’s no point in having two keys.”

Pulling the kuru-ki aside, I offered her my solution. “How about this: we all take a taxi to your apartment, you get the key, and then we come back to the center and have another drink or two. You’re not tired, right?”

“No, not really.”

“Perfect then, because it doesn’t look like your friend wants to stay out longer, anyway.”

The plan was accepted. We found a taxi and took the ten minute ride to their apartment. I waited in the cab and told the taxi driver in yoruba to wait for the kuru-ki to return (older ilorin people respect those who speak yoruba to them, hoping to reduce the cab fair).

“I think there’s a 50% chance praise will return,” I mused out loud.

“Really?” the taxi driver replied. " Padi eh, ma worry. Ko ni wa rara. Gbage eh" which means - “I think there’s a 0% chance, absolutely none.”

That tested my confidence in the girl’s attraction for me, and after six minutes passed with no sign of the girl, I started to consider that he might be right.

And then praise came back.

“So I have some bad news,” she said. “My roommate won’t give me the key and she has to leave at 6am to the train station.”

“That’s fine, we’ll be back before then. You can knock on the door.”

“No I don’t think we’ll be back before then.”

“Why not? We’re just going for a drink to talk some more.” I did not want to reveal my one-night stand intent.

“Why don’t you just get my number?” she asked. “I’ll be free on Monday and we can hang out then.”

“Number? But I’m free to hang out right now. I don’t know if I’ll be alive by Monday.”

“Just take my number.”

“No, I don’t want your number right now. Come join me for a drink first. It’s not late and I’ll get you home soon.”

*i could hear the cab man laughing at my desperate situation*

She thought about it for a few seconds, but I knew my fate was already sealed.

“You’re being stubborn,” she said, upset. “So you’re not going to get my number then?”

I shook my head no. She stared at me and I broke the silence by telling her to have a good night. She rolled her eyes and turned away, perhaps in disbelief that a sure thing would go nowhere. Not the first time for her, I’m sure.

I instructed the taxi driver to take me back to the club. Perhaps he was satisfied for being right, but I didn’t ask. The round trip fare was more expensive than I thought at 750 naira. I didn’t have anything to show for it except lost time, but I wasn’t ready to give up. At least I was warmed up and my boner was both eager and ready for sex.

The first thing I did back in the club was use the bathroom. It’s then that I noticed a red spot on my penis in the area that came into contact with her disco ball dress. My cock was injured. Penis tissue doesn’t like being roughly rubbed on hard plastic for a prolonged period of time. This injury was most disastrous since a healthy boner is required for sexual intercourse, but since it was only red and not bleeding, I felt I could still perform sexually.

I approached a girl at the bar who gave me the boyfriend line. I copy-pasted my boyfriend destroyer format  but all it did was destroy the conversation because she walked off. I went to the bar, ordered a drink, took a few deep breaths, and approached another girl beside me.

She had dark features with bodacious breasts and ass. She introduced herself as Beata, that's the best way I can spell it, and said she was 19. Her English was weak but the approach hooked and we talked for a few minutes while her friend waited at a table, appearing agitated. I mentally made a note that the friend might cockblock me. “So why are you in this club?” I asked.

“Just to dance with my friend. She’s never been here before.”

“You’re not trying to meet the man of your dreams?” I joked.

She laughed. “No! I’m looking for a serious relationship that has a future to it. I’m not looking to meet a man in a club.”

When I was in abuja, it was generally safe to take a girl’s word for it when it came to her saying what she wanted. Most girls there genuinely wanted a relationship, so it was smart to minimise obvious player vibes, at least initially. But in ilorin I got burned two weeks before by a girl who told me she wanted a relationship and then lost interest when I mirrored her sentiments. And then after that I had a case in a club with a girl who said she wanted to only “have fun” but got immediately turned off when I went full creep mode. I could no longer take an ilorin girl’s word at face value.

My strategy with Beata was to ignore what she said and run the game that I think every girl in the club wanted: a smooth, aloof, sexy man who doesn’t make her feel like a slut. I’d escalate at a reasonable pace without showing any indication that I wanted something serious while also not being too sleazy.

Remembering how dancing opened up the kuru ki from earlier, I grabbed Beata’s hand and took her to the dance floor. I put my injured cock in the opposite direction to prevent greater trauma to the skin. She grinded me at such a professional level that I started to wonder if she had lived in America before (she hadn’t). Since Beata’s beauty was definitely high—much higher than praise. —she made no bonus effort to please me with passionate kisses or intimate gestures. My wounded boner didn’t care—it was ready to go.

Now that attraction with Beata was mostly established, I’d have to win over her friend. We went back to her table and I asked her some boring personal questions. She eventually declared that she loved American culture and was excited to meet me, since I had deep roots in American culture. I lowered the threat level on the cockblock.

Though she wasn’t as pretty as Beata, we did connect better. Then I found out she was only visiting town for a couple days and staying in Beata’s apartment. The choice of who to pursue was easy, and it helped that Beata was as intoxicated as me while her friend was essentially sober, but the revelation that the friend was staying with Beata did force me to pause and think of what to do next.

The girls openly talked about leaving the club and going somewhere else. I said, “How about we all go to my place for a drink or a cup of tea?”

“Where do you live?” Beata asked.

“Down the street, about three minutes away.” It was more like six minutes but I doubted they’d time it. When rolling solo, logistics is my wingman.

“Wow that’s close! Yeah let’s go to your place.”

The hard part was corralling them because drunk guys kept putting in their attempt as we made our way to the coat check and then out the door. I didn’t want to be too pushy and seem needy but I didn’t want to give horny drunk guys free reign to spit their game. It didn’t help that Beata stopped to have a conversation with not one but two of the bouncers. I wondered if she was a slut or club whore, but I knew I’d find out soon enough.

Once out on the street, I had to deal with one last guy who wouldn’t leave us alone. I asked him where he lived, and when he pointed in the opposite direction, I stuck out my hand and wished him a good night. He walked away. I didn’t consider incorporating him into the plan—there was absolutely no way I’d let a strange drunk man, whose wingman credentials have not at all been proven, enter my apartment. I’d succeed or fail alone.

While walking home with the two girls, I imagined that four possibilities were in store for me: I’d bang both (10% chance), I’d bang Beata (50% chance), I’d bang the friend (15% chance), or I’d bang neither (25% chance). Only one of those outcomes were unfavorable, and I decided to do everything I could to fuck, even if it meant staying up all night to entertain the girls and using all manner of psychological manipulation and trickery.

Once in my apartment, Beata asked to take a shower to wash the beer that was spilled earlier on her hair. I gave her a change of clothes and directed her to the shower.

When I moved into my apartment, there was no shower curtain or way to install one, so I had to make a custom frame using PVC pipe I bought from the local hardware store. It worked to keep water out but was quite unstable, so I wasn’t surprised to hear a crash and thud a few minutes into her shower. Her friend went to investigate and for the next ten minutes all I could hear was laughter and shrieking. I later learned that the friend gave Beata a bath and helped her dress afterwards, as if she was her mother. I was deeply touched by the friend’s nurturing side, but my boner didn’t appreciate it.

When Beata came out in my t-shirt and boxers, I looked into the bathroom to find it demolished. Water was everywhere, random bathroom accessories were thrown about, and the shower curtain was splayed across the floor with piping laying in many directions. Beata apologized profusely for the mess and I told her not to worry about it while I mopped up the floor and repaired the pipes. As long as neither girl vomited, I was ready to tolerate further destruction. I also noticed that Beata had somehow managed to break my comb in half. I held the two pieces in my hand and asked, “Were you hungry?” The girls laughed. I ensured the mood always stayed light.

The friend was next to take a shower. While she was in the bathroom, I sat Beata on the ledge of my window and stood in front of her, holding her legs up. There was no resistance when going for the kiss and she apologized for breaking my comb. You wouldn’t have been able to know that my cock was injured by the full power it was displaying in desire for this 19-year-old beauty. Would the friend let me bang Beata or would this be a frustrating night of not being sexually satisfied in spite of having two pretty girls in my pad? I was now so backed up from the lack of morning sex and the double grind session that I would have stuck my dick in a hole in the wall without knowing who or what was on the other side if it meant some type of spermal release.

The friend came out and Beata went back to the bathroom to moisturize. “I’m glad you don’t live in the city,” I told the friend, “because both of you are nice and pretty. It would have been impossible to make a decision on which one of you I like most.”
She smiled. I could tell she felt validated by my statement, as if thinking, “I’m just as desirable as my friend!” My goal was to reduce her jealousy and it seemed to work, but I knew there was a possibility for that to backfire.
for the next twenty minutes, the girls recounted the bathroom incident and random events of the night. I found it strange how they would make a big deal at the smallest incidents that happened to them, things that I would have barely noticed. I looked at the clock and it was 5am.
I said, “I’d sleep on the couch but I’m too tall. One of you can share my bed since it’s big.” They talked about it for a minute in yoruba, which they felt I don't understand since they assumed me as an americana, am guilty of indulging those assumptions  and it was agreed that Beata would sleep with me. The friend had no objection to the couch and wished us a good night.

Beata was already in bed when I slipped underneath the covers wearing only my boxers. She straightened her legs so that I could press my body against hers. She was obviously not tired and kissed me with urgency. I removed the boxers she was wearing and then tried for her panties, but it was too quick and so she denied me. I moved to her neck and breasts and tried again five minutes later, but I received another no.

Not at all frustrated, I later tried another tack by placing her on top of me and letting her ride my cock to simulate the pleasure she would receive if we were naked. This did the trick and the panties came off. I got a condom and carefully placed it over my injured cock as if it was an overly ripe banana. Then I fucked her like an ostrich for the next ten minutes. She made no attempt to quiet her moans. It turned me on to know that her friend, only fifteen feet away, could hear everything.

Round two was even more intense. Beata instructed me to “dominate” her and so I did, all thanks to the national exposure to the upcoming movie  "50 shades of Grey". With her on her stomach and me mounting her from behind, I pulled her hair so hard that her upper torso went far back enough to place her into an advanced yoga position. I couldn’t imagine how that could feel good for her but she loved it and moaned for more. I flipped her this way and that like a sex doll to the positions I liked and gave it to her as hard as I could, trying to put in a good showing for older men like me everywhere.

Perhaps due to the injury of my cock or the fact that I had two orgasms the day before, I could not ejaculate a second time and gave up when I was too tired to proceed. We went to sleep.

I made tea for the girls the next morning. They gave a full recounting of the night, erupting in hysterical laughter when it came time to discuss what happened in the bathroom. I feigned interest but was too out of it to share their joy at having a fun night, one that would make up the highlight reel of their youth when they were older and settled, with Beata remembering getting fucked by a Yeti man 16 years her senior and her friend remembering the sounds of that fucking as if she was right there on the bed.

It came out that Beata had just broken up with her boyfriend two days before. No first breakup is final so I knew that she was in a transition stage instead of totally wanting a new cock to replace the old. This explained her slight coolness to me in the morning where she did not touch me once, and if I forgot to get her number she probably wouldn’t have prompted me to do so like the kuru ki with the penis-destroying dress. I mentally accepted that this would probably not result in a repeat bang, and I didn’t mind one bit.

Out of all the men who wanted to bang her but didn’t, I count my blessings that I was able to have one night of intense pleasure with such a young girl, and how ignoring her desire for a “serious relationship” was essential to go from being flaked on or forgotten to absolutely destroying the pussy as if it was my last fuck on Earth. A night like this once in a while, with the occasional callback from a girl who wants a second round, is more than enough to keep my content in my relations with women. For now.