The SLC Dating Chronicles Part 3: The Mormon "Virgin" with "Natural" Breasts
This is Part 3 in The SLC Dating Chronicles.
This story can be read alone. But feel free to check out Parts 1 & 2 if you want some background:
https://steemit.com/dating/@jack1/the-dating-adventures-of-jack-part-2-mexico-vs-bangladesh
JUST A QUICK PRELIMINARY NOTE BEFORE YOU HIT THE STORY
R-Rated
These stories are going to be NSFW in terms of what I'm writing about. I would say they are going to be more R-Rated than NC-17. I'm not going to be giving you labored detailed descriptions of genitals in motion or anything like that. But, there is going to be sex involved. It's not something I would hand to my mother, but I wouldn't care at all if acquaintances came over and saw it on my coffee table. There won't be any NSFW photos or anything like that....but there is sex going on in these stories. Also, I was moderately to heavily intoxicated for a lot of these events. So, bail now if any of that is something you can't handle.
OKAY, LET'S GO:
Having seen some success with my internet dating blueprint. I started to expand my dragnet. I would send out dozens of messages a day to the profiles of various girls. I had a template opener e-mail that I would keep in an easily accessible word file for copying and pasting. It usually looked something like this:
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Me
Date: [ ]
hi,
you seem like another cool person in Salt Lake who isn't totally basic.
i’m a young attorney looking for cool non-basic girls to chill with.
so i wanted to say hi.
Me
The particular message above was aimed at a short latin chick with curly hair. She looked really short...maybe 5'1"ish. But, she also had the perfectly round titties and curvaceous ass with which I was newly infatuated. It was important that she was so short. For any girl within even 5 inches of my height of around 6 foot to have equally disproportionate breasts, hips, and ass, she would have to be a little too much on the behemoth side. Way too much woman for me to handle. Such curvy girls would have to stay down under 5'4" in order for them to be light enough to still interest me.
This one had a smoking hot body.
Her response was surprisingly quick:
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Her
Date: [ ]
Hi
LOL I'm far from basic hon so I think your safe :) I have to however tell you I couldn't stop laughing that you had to mention you are an attorney. The jury is still out on whether or not that was a smooth thing for you to say... LOL sorry bad joke (i work in ________, I have to find the punchline in everything:).
But I do have to give you a huge compliment on your puppy _____ (I'm talking about your dog "______", I haven't picked out your nickname yet he he he) So what side of the law do you work on? Trying to put away the bad guys or give good enough reasons for them to get a slap on the wrist and re-offend?
(Not the actual dog)
I had included a picture of my sister's tiny dog as my own on my profile. It was definitely a sort of lie, but it gave these girls something to talk about in their messages to me since the rest of my profile was intended to convey ruggedness.
It was pretty obvious that this girls hobby was sitting around and crushing the dreams of guys who thought they could pick her up online. I would have to respond unapologetically and sharply to let her know I was different. This was obviously the key in all this internet dating stuff. In the beginning, you have to figure out what the girl is accustomed to in the guys who approach her, and then be completely different. Only once you convince her you are different from all the rest should you set about showing her that you are an alpha male and more fun than her normal life.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Me
Date: [ ]
I think the jury is still out on whether or not you are basic. You've got all "life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the number of moments that take your breath away" stuff and then you've got a pretty emotional about me section. I am very strongly suspecting that you are closet basic.
I'm glad I didn't have to point out the irony of commenting on smoothness after that "jury is still out" pun.
Yeah, I pretty much just superimpose pictures of that dog into pictures of mine so that it looks like I love little animals. I have no idea who she actually belongs to.
My job is more about making sure the "bad guys" never even fall within the grasp of the long arm of the law. My clients never ever get to the slap on the wrist stage. ;)
So, maybe you should just come right out and admit that you are closet basic since I already figured it out?
(Not her actual pageant)
Over the next few days, our conversation continued and revolved around the fiction that I believed she was basic and her denials of that. It was a ridiculous and absurd topic of conversation, but it was something I'm sure she had never been accused of before, so it made our conversation different and new for her. For me it was perfect since it forced her to explain to me how she was "normal" and "cool" and not one of these basic people. Basically, I had framed the conversation so that she was explaining to me why I should date her and not the other way around. She revealed she was the reigning crown holder of a certain Utah beauty pageant. This made me impressed with her and pleased with myself. But, I didn't even comment on it. Later, I would google this beauty pageant and find out that she was indeed the reigning crown holder and that she played it up as much as she possibly could on her résumé. But, it was a small one that probably didn’t have that many contestants.
I also developed some new tools during my myspace message conversation with her. I noticed she had a picture with her grandma that was captioned "Me and Grams." Too easy.
Me: "It looks like you’re thinking: 'I love my grams!' Grams is thinking: 'I don't know why my granddaughter is so clingy. I'm just trying to ride in the car and she keeps grabbing me and shoving the camera in my face.'
Her: "Actually I love that pic too, and you ARE SOOOOOO right about me. I was clingy that day because it had been over a year that I didn't see grams. My fam lives in [ ] and so when I fly out there I grab on and take advantage of all the hugs and kisses I can get since I'm out here in utah by myself. So I won't even argue with that."
I would use this technique on different girls over and over again in the future. It's weird but they almost always respond by revealing some deep emotion they feel for the family member in the photo. This sharing of her deep emotions is, in turn, really good for creating an emotional connection of your own with the girl.
I also happened upon something that I would use to great effect later to break up with girls: the Mustang/Plowhorse conversation. I invented it to use with this girl when I told her that her grandma would probably think I was sexy and she responded that her grandma would think I was “an ass”.
(Not actually me as a wild horse)
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Me
Date: [ ]
I think your grandma would love me. She would probably meet me and be reminded of a by-gone era when men were men and still had a sense of masculinity. Today, if a woman wants a man who is totally domesticated, has no sense of his own virility, and caters to her every order and whim it is easy to find. There are many neutered men out there to choose from. They will follow all of your orders and never back talk you. Just turn on any sitcom. Every man on TV is like that and every episode revolves around the oafish and dumb husband character getting caught and admonished by his wife for doing something of which she disapproves. Invariably it's something like going to see a fight with his buddies instead of taking her to the ballet. The thing is that this sitcom archetype that every guy you know tries to live up to is like a domesticated plow horse who only dreams about running free when he thinks no one is around to punish him for it. But, believe me, the plow horse grows more and more cold and bitter as time goes on until he can't take it anymore and lashes out biting those around him. I’m sure you’ve seen this before.
Guys like me on the other hand are like wild mustangs running free out on the range. We’re wild but we’re free and content with our lives. So, we never grow bitter or cold and we never bite the mares in the herd. Men like me are less reverent, we will never be domesticated, but because we refuse to bow down to this archetype of the neutered modern man, we will always treat you better than the biting plow horse of a man that most women call their husband. That is why your grams would love me. Because I am a man of the same type that existed when she was your age: unbitter and uncold but free, content, and happy.
Besides, I only tease you because I like you.
Usually I don't introduce myself as a young attorney. Usually I say I'm a rich and powerful young attorney. LOL. See, that was me just teasing. It was funny because it's too ridiculous and arrogant to be true.
I wish I had the staying single thing mastered. For about the last 7 years, that is the one thing I don't seem to be very good at, at all. [this was a partial lie]. How do you do it so well?
See? That was another playful joke. I gave you a backhanded compliment that implies you can't find a boyfriend. It's funny because it's ridiculous and arrogant.
You really don't have to get defensive and negative with me. I take the time to think up creative ways to tease you and seem ridiculously arrogant only because I like you. What other guy goes to such lengths? Only mustang type guys can muster up the courage to do this sort of thing. Plowhorse type guys are too afraid of disapproval.
I know what you’re thinking: so why does he like me? I can say it's not because of your aesthetic qualities. Beauty is common and easy to come by. Beauty is something that I have been able to find consistently in Utah and on both coasts. But it has always been a disappointment when found by itself. So I’m always on the look out for something else...something very specific. Maybe you have that specific attribute. Only time will tell. Who knows, maybe you and I will suddenly stop corresponding. Then, I will never know. But, something tells me that you and I will just go on with our lives and we'll both do just fine. But, if we do keep talking, maybe you will discover that I'm not the ridiculously arrogant bastard that I pretend to be, and I will discover that you have that special quality I am looking for. Maybe we'll find out, maybe we'll never talk again. Only time will tell.
So, what's it going to be? Never talk again and go find a plowhorse type guy to converse with, or keep talking to the more irreverent mustang type guy who is free and content but doesn't always follow all your orders and cater to all your whims.
For use as a breakup conversation I would flip the story slightly and tell the girl I was a mustang who would die if I was forced to become a plowhorse (i.e. her boyfriend). But, for the time being, this story had the intended effect of convincing this particular girl that I was an alpha male. All of my teasing of her over the last few days had already convinced her that I was fun.
I laughed when I read how she opened her next message:
Her: "I'm ashamed to say I'm impressed. I honestly thought that's all there was to you. Now you go and show a softer...no I can't say soft, I wouldn't want to take away from your strong and fierce MUSTANG qualities, but a more approachable side..."
I knew I had basically clinched it. She would want to meet soon. Within a few days she was subtly directing me to ask for her number. I was enjoying her chasing me and kept telling her "I'm not that easy....you are going to have slow down a little bit." A few days later, I used my standard number close ("give me your number....I will only send you 9 creepy and inappropriate messages per day"). We continued our little back and forth arguments/discussions for a few more days and eventually set a date for a date.
I lived in a cool apartment near a nice little Asian restaurant. I got a little boozed up to quell any nerves and made her meet me at my place. She arrived and looked sexy--just like her pics. I took her on a little tour of my place (so that she would feel comfortable there and more likely to return). I took her to the Asian place and the date was going great. I was making her laugh and I was having a great time. The date was going great except one thing. Despite being a latina and having grown up in a far away city, she had converted to Mormonism. She had earlier informed me that this meant she didn't drink and was a virgin with no intention of having pre-marital sex.
I knew the smart move would have been to bail and not pursue this chick anymore. But, it only made me want her more. I was now trying to corrupt a hot virginal Mormon chick. As expected our date ended with no sex and not even a kiss. But, I could tell she liked it.
We went on several more dates (if you can call so many continuous sexless encounters "dates"). I could tell she was feeling a stronger and stronger emotional connection to me but she kept rebuffing my attempts to get her in bed. After one of these dates, we were sitting in her apartment on the couch in the living room talking. I decided it was time to take another shot.
Her: "I'm getting so tired."
Me: "Yeah, we should really go in your room and hit the sack."
Her[moving slightly away from me on the couch]: "Uh uh Mister! You mean you should get some sleep in your bed and I should in mine."
Me: "C'mon...we're two consenting adults, it won't hurt anything if we go in there and just take a little nap before I have to drive home.
She began again to argue against this seemingly harmless proposition that I had advanced on countless previous occasions. But, this time she eventually gave in. I was surprised. She made me promise I would keep my clothes on. I said, "We'll see." She let me go into her room anyway. She went to the bathroom to change into her sleeping attire. She came out. The sleeping clothes were not sexy, but her body still was. I was laying in her bed and she awkwardly stood over it.
Me: "Get in, you're tired right?
Her: "Remember, you promised not to try anything."
Me: "Uh....yeah...yeah...get your tight ass in here." [Girls with Jennifer Lopez type asses generally seem to love it when you call their asses "tight" but also hate it if you even tangentially mention JLO around them. I thought it was important to mention her ass since it let her know I was thinking sexual thoughts about her. A good way to ease her into it.]
She got into the bed and pulled the covers up around her chin. She was laying there so awkwardly with her eyes open that I had to keep myself from laughing.
Me: "Uh....are you comfortable? Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you took off..."
She cut me off.
Her: "I'm fine and not removing anything."
Okay, I knew I was going to have go a little slower and ease her into it more subtly. She was now laying with her back to me, so I wrapped my arms around her and slowly pulled her whole body close to me. I was definitely rocking a raging hard-on at this point. This would probably be the do-or-die moment. Would she object to this steely appendage poking her in the back and ass through the 4 layers of clothes separating our bodies. I held my breath right at the point I thought she would start yelling and kick me out of her apartment. Here it comes....5.....4....3....2....1.....nothing. Holy shit....she feels it...I know she feels it and she's not doing anything.
This was definitely not the reaction I was expecting from such a purportedly devout Mormon girl. I waited for about 90 seconds just to see if she would do anything. Nothing. I gently turned her over on to her back. She was wide awake and staring at me. I kissed her on the lips. She liked it. I kissed her on the neck. I lifted up her shirt and kissed her on the stomach. She was riggling around a little bit like girls do when they are into that sort of thing. I kissed her a little higher up by her sternum...still riggling around. I pulled her shirt even higher and kissed her just under her left bra cup. She didn't object.
(Not the actual girl)
At this point, I figured "what the hell, might as well go for it." Worst case scenario she slaps me and kicks me out or something. Nothing a phone call and a fancy brunch tomorrow won't fix. I lifted up the one left bra cup and quickly slipped her nipple into my mouth. She made a sound. The beginning of the sound seemed to be in slow motion as I waited to see what it would be. I expected, "Wait a second!" or "What do you think you're doing?" What I got would probably be spelled something like, "owwahhhhhhhheeeeehhhhhhhh." She was moaning. This chick had sensitive nipples and she was moaning. Excellent.
After a few minutes of working over that fleshy pencil eraser of a nipple, I started taking her bra and shirt completely off. As I was doing that, I looked around the room. I knew exactly what I was looking for. Every Mormon girl had it somewhere in her room. There it was on the wall next to her bed. A portrait of the Mormon Jesus. The Mormon Jesus isn't like the normal Jesus. The Mormon one looks more like a redheaded Scandinavian guy. He doesn't look like an Aramaic speaking carpenter. He looks like a guy from the Ikea catalogue. That Jesus represented everything that had kept me from getting laid for so many frustrating years when every girl in my high school was Mormon. I looked him right in the eye and winked. In my head, I was saying, "Yo player, you'll have to let me know how my form looks while I’m giving it to your home girl here in a few minutes! Payback's a bitch!!" I had to strain to not say this out loud in my best Carl from GTA: San Andreas voice.
Meanwhile she was more than revved up. I buried my face in those gorgeous tits for a second, and then raised up to behold those beautiful fatty blobs supporting my mouth. I made sure the Mormon Jesus painting could tell what I was doing. But, then I noticed it. This girl had gone on and on about how her gigantic perfectly round breasts were "100% homegrown" and real. She had made a point of bringing it up on her own anytime anyone saw or talked about any woman with big breasts. But, as I lay there at that moment, I could see the truth. A scarlet letter that told the truth hidden in her lies. There they were: tiny almost imperceptible stitch marks around the outside of each nipple. THEY WERE FAKE! She had lied right to my face. It's not that I cared, they were awesome. But, I was blown away that she had lied to me so convincingly and voluntarily with no provocation. I couldn't help it, I was amused that she had so skillfully deceived me. I smiled and laughed. She noticed. Her face went flush with embarrassment.
Her [obviously embarrassed and pissed]: "What are you laughing about?"
Me: "It's okay, it's not a big deal."
She turned over on her side. It took me a half hour of kissing on her neck to get her back in the game. When she was back in the game, she rewarded me for not calling her on the carpet over the lie. I took her pants off. She objected that I was still fully clothed. I jumped out of bed and took all my clothes off (including my briefs...she still had on her panties). I used the soap opera/telenovela shirt removal method. As soon as I climbed back in bed she kissed me on my neck and then on my chest and then she went to work under the sheets. I didn't expect her to go downtown so quickly, but I took this opportunity to angle myself towards her so that I could touch her while she was doing her thing to me. She liked it. Soon I had her completely naked. I pulled her back up towards the pillow and laid her on her back. We had sex. She was not a virgin. I didn't say anything. It was good.
She and I would sleep together many times over the next few weeks. That was until I decided to go skiing at Alta one weekend. It was snowing ultra hard that day and the skiing was excellent. Even better, I didn't have anybody with me, so I could ski wherever I wanted as fast as I wanted. No one to lose, no one to wait for. Perfection.
On the way back down Little Cottonwood Canyon, the traffic was brutal and we were all immediately diverted onto the Snowbird bypass road. There, the traffic was bumper to bumper and at a complete standstill with movement every few minutes. I started documenting my journey with my phone camera. I would send each pic out over text to two or three girls I was pursuing with a quick caption. One of these girls was this non-virgin virgin with the "natural" breasts.
(Again, not the actual girl)
A few days later I hit her up over text to see if I could wrangle another of our late night visits that had become fairly regular. The reply I got surprised me.
Her: "Did you know that when you broadcast texts like that I can see who else is receiving it?"
Me: "Uhhhhhhh...what are you talking about?"
Her: "I was so excited to get those little updates on your ski trip and then I noticed that you were sending it to a bunch of other girls!"
Me: "I can't remember who I sent those two, but yeah....I might have sent it to a few other buddies."
Her: "I told my gay friend at work all about this and he told me he thought my man was creepin'."
[I know the things she was saying look super weird and faux-urban in print. But I swear, this is exactly how she used to talk.]
I was a little surprised to hear her call me "my man." We had definitely not had any talks about exclusivity and I was a little pissed she was making that jump right now. If she was bothered by the other numbers receiving the texts she should just ask for the exclusivity.
Her: "So anyway, I had him call those numbers. They were all girls!!!! Single girls!!!!"
Me: "You had one of your friends calling other people receiving my text updates?"
Her: "Yes. I'm a strong woman and I deserve to be treated with respect not like some whore."
Me: "I can't believe you did that. I can't remember exactly who received those texts [this was a lie....I knew exactly which chicks I sent it to], but it doesn't matter anyway because you and I have never discussed exclusivity at all. If you wanted it you should have asked for it."
She then went on to try to explain that she just somehow expected exclusivity because we had been seeing each other for a few weeks. I rejected these arguments. She and I wouldn't actually talk again for many months. We would text late at night and make plans to see each other again with no mention of the "creepin'" episode. She was going to make me dinner and give me a tour of her new place. I couldn't commit to a night because I had dates with other girls that weekend. The dinner never happened. Years later, I would again have the perfect synthetic roundness of her “natural” tits in my mouth. But, that’s another story.
Just a note: these are all public domain images that are free for commercial use with no attribution required.
Interesting thoughts