Turkish-American Near Miss SDL

This Saturday was my last evening in Istanbul. My flight would leave tomorrow at 14:40 and all my leads were dead. Given that I had already two near misses this trip, I was determined to fly home with a new notch. The night before, I agreed for my long term Turkish girl to meet me in Amsterdam end of September. Combined with a proper gym session that Saturday morning, I started my last daygame session with an outstanding vibe. As this was my last evening, my game automatically became more r-selected: I started filtering for rebellious girls and refused to take phone numbers unless I was certain that I could get them out on a date that night.

The first set I opened was on the phone (I didn’t notice). She talked for a bit while I stood there standing, looking her up and down with ravenous eyes. She must have realized because right after the call, she handed me her phone to type in my number. I never give my number to girls - which I told her. Of course, being Turkish she spoke fuck all English. I opened Google Translate and wrote “I don’t just want your phone number, I want to get to know you”. She giggled, shook her head, and ejected from the set, lifting my spirits.

I did two more sets that I can’t quite recall until I bumped into a Turkish daygamer with whom I’ve winged this week. He was also alone so we decided to wing up. To his credit, he pushed me into the next set which turned out to be a Turkish strong maybe-girl. Even better: she lived in the US until her late teens, meaning her English was almost native. She was 26 years old, with solid tits, lean body, and attractive face. I liked her. Because I was so determined, and because she gave me a good initial reaction on the open, I laid it on thick and set the right frame: I complimented her on her hair and body-shape, accuzed her of being an irresponsible shopper, and told her that I find her pretty but that I don’t want her number¹ because I leave tomorrow. We agreed to meet later that evening after she finished dinner with her mom.

We met up later at 9 PM on Taksim square outside the metro station. She took a wrong turn² but arrived about 10 minutes late. To be fair, coming there I initially took the metro in the wrong direction so had to ride two stops back. The set was pretty fizzy so I felt I could get away with “look for the guy that looks like Brad Pitt”. We soon met, and chit-chat flowed freely: although she looked Turkish, her rambling was American all right. As I was staying in Nisantasi which was only one stop from Taksim square, I decided to bounce her straight to the cocktail bar in my street Where I funny enough had dated another Turkish-American girl the night before. She agreed to come, and we were soon sitting in the exact same places as her predecessor. Not only because this amused me, but because forcing her to sit on the bench (instead of the chairs) forced her to sit next to me, which made escalation easy.

It was a relief to speak adult-level English with her, and my only challenge was not letter her snatch the frame with her obnoxious, relentless American chit-chat. Steering conversations toward sexual topics wasn’t hard, though: this girl was a properly Westernized slag. No relationship plans, fuckbuddies³, blackout-drinking, and a revulsion toward traditional Turkish men. “I wouldn’t have come out on a date if you were Turkish,” she confessed.

By the time we finished our first drink, I already escalated verbally toward sexual topics (previous kisses, relationships, vices, etc.) and she let me touch her fingers (rings, trinkets, etc.) and hair. However, she didn’t really reciprocate my kino and I hadn’t felt a window open to kiss her. Time was ticking: it was already 10 PM. “Shall we get another drink?” she asked me. I decided to pull the trigger: “I still have half a bottle of rose wine at my place. Let’s finish it as I’m leaving tomorrow.” She wobbled a bit, but eventually agreed.

As we walked to my place I didn’t have to occupy her forebrain with bullshit-prattle for long: we were at my door in less than two minutes. She offered no resistance coming in, and we soon sat on my couch sipping wine. Or rather guzzling, this girl drank like a horse: not only did she finish her glass before mine - she asked for a refill, and even asked if she can have half of my glass. Ever the gentleman, I obliged.

After 30 minutes of her American yapping I felt she had enough comfort, and decided to physically escalate toward toward my lay. Of course I was happy that I was likely going to get an SDL on the final night of my trip, but I’ve been deceived to times already this trip, so I kept my cool and didn’t show any obvious signs of excitement. I steered to conversation toward liking each other. She asked me “how did you know that I liked you?” I said that “I felt it from the way she was looking and smiling, but that there was only one way to be sure…” - I reached for the kiss and she reciprocated by shoving her tongue down my mouth. I was becoming more optimistic - am I really getting an SDL on my final night?

I decided to not over-pull and broke off the kiss after 10 seconds, and returned to our sexual conversations, trying to spike her buying temperature. I got her on the bed under the pretense that this was more comfortable. At this point I received my first wobble: “okay, but we’re not going to have sex tonight,” she said. “That’s fine. I’ll just give you a massage.” Unfortunately for me, her resistance kept increasing: she just wouldn’t move past kissing and letting my hands wander. She also wouldn’t grab my dick.