Hamburg Horniness


daygame in hamburg

I flew back from Hamburg this morning, sleepy and hungover from last night’s tomfoolery in the hotel there. What was meant to be a quiet night in before an early morning flight turned out to be a seduction chess game of major proportions.

After finishing up the event which I was in the city for by mid afternoon, I went back to my room, showered and got ready to head out to explore a bit of Hamburg. I’d been there before to teach a student but had never daygamed it just for myself. The wind whistled down the Elbe River from the North Sea under a grey industrial sky as I buttoned up my jacket at the hotel door.

A petite girl, mid twenties with a camera bag around her neck and a creative look about her got into the same section of revolving door as I did. She made the first move:

“What do those letter mean, if I can ask?” she said in excellent English but with a German accent, pointing to the tattoo on my fingers.

I used her question as an opportunity to spike, telling her each letter was the initial of one of my ex-wives who I’d murdered for their money. She laughed and asked me where I was from. This was too easy. It felt like a hook before I’d even begun my daygame session. Or maybe she was just chatty and friendly to everyone – a red herring for hustlers.

We bantered as she tried to call a taxi. I found out she was actually Dutch, but had been living in Hamburg for twenty years. She was a portrait photographer and had spent the morning working in a conference at the hotel. Now she had to go and get her films developed.

The second stroke of luck (after actually meeting her in the revolving door) was that a taxi wasn’t available immediately. Strangely there was no Uber in the city so she agreed to get a coffee with me around the corner before going to the photo lab.

Five minutes later we were sitting in Balzac Coffee near the waterfront and vibing like kids. She was teasing me about my lack of warm clothes, I was making fun of her small size and using all the Dutch stereotypes I knew against her. She was fascinated with my wrist tattoos, leaning across the table to touch them – a big green light. I found a small one on her right wrist under her watch (a tiny Irish shamrock) from her time in Dublin.

While she went to drop off her films, I did some daygame on the main pedestrian street. Quality wasn’t anything special and the blustery conditions dampened my spirits. We’d agreed to meet back at the coffee shop in an hour, so I was more than happy when she turned up again and I had an excuse to end my session.

From the centre we walked down the Philharmonic concert hall on the river front and watched the seagulls riding the gusts over the choppy water. The interaction was grounded with her telling me about her photography, her travels, and me telling her about my trips and the videos I’d shot. To stop it falling into comfort quicksand I’d playfully push her into a flock of pigeons or steal her woolly hat to keep myself warm.

I realised that her “tour” was taking us further and further away from the centre. I’d got caught up in the vibing and ignored the two key elements a player has to control: leading and logistics. I told her I was hungry (which I was) and that I’d seen a good fish place in the centre (which I hadn’t). The cold was also an excuse to start walking back to where we’d started. God bless Google Maps.

A thirty minute walk to the centre had made us both tired and chilly. We ducked into the first casual cafe we found near the shopping area and sat next to each other sipping a craft beer and eating wraps. The warmth and the carbohydrates immediately lifted our spirits. I knew I had to shift from rapport to seduction. She knew I was leaving in the morning  and had already made some semi-excuses about having to go and collect her prints and then go home.

I got things physical in the usual way: pseudo palm reads, talking about her hair while touching it, seeing if she had “secret tattoos” etc. Her hands were cold so I kept them in mine under the pretext of “warming them up.” I seeded things by telling her about the ridiculous apartment I was staying in that my hosts had booked for me, on the top floor of the hotel. I mentioned the short films I’d made of my Arctic husky adventures and my month-long sailing of the Atlantic which I said I’d show her.

“Let me pick up those photos, then I can stop thinking about them” she said as we walked out of the cafe. My heart sunk as I knew more walking around would kill momentum, but there was little I could do if I wanted the Same Day Lay. It turned out the photography shop was not far at all from the centre, her geography was just really bad and she’d walked in circles. I looked it up on my phone and showed her a quicker way.

With the photos collected, we walked back to the Hyatt Hotel so I could “show her the videos” I’d mentioned and we could have another beer with a “better view.” She didn’t flinch at all when we walked into the lobby, then into the lift, then into my apartment. Done deal I thought. That was easy.

Oh no. From around 6pm until midnight the seduction chess battle was fought. Not just two steps forward, one step back. More like two steps forward, ten steps back. Progress was very slow. She wouldn’t sit on the bed. She wouldn’t let me kiss her. But she’d dance around the apartment to the laptop music, sit on my lap, tease me and then giggle as she retreated. Token Last Minute Resistance (LMR) is normal and expected with a fast pull so I breathed in and put up with it for one hour. Then another hour.

By 8pm I was getting annoyed and ready to use the “Royal Flush” of calling it out. We were sitting on the bed, drinking our beers, watching my short videos, but still no kissing or even hugging. She knew what I wanted, and she was enjoying making me wait.

I put on the movie “Fight Club” which we both agreed was one of our favourites and this gave us a reason to lie next to each other. This turned to hugging, spooning, neck kissing and then a make-out, which itself triggered all her “Anti Slut Defence” niggles. “I’m not that kind of girl,” “I don’t know you,” “you’re going home tomorrow,” “this is so unexpected”…’s always the same speech on loop.

By the end of the movie it was after ten and we’d run out of beer. I was still hungry so called room service for a ham and cheese toastie and two lagers (it was comedy watching the waiter lift up the silver lid of the tray to reveal a toasted sandwich). I wasn’t paying for my stay in the hotel apartment so was enjoying every perk.

Things were dreamy and sleepy as we lay on the bed in the dark with my usual “Sheepy Mix” on Youtube. Cuddling and kissing turned to clothes coming off and dry humping with underwear still on. She’d be into it one minute, then suddenly roll over and say she felt “confused.” It was classic forebrain vs hindbrain in action. I was biting my tongue and using time-outs to get past it, getting up and checking my phone, changing the music etc.

I gave her a bit of a speech as my final “push” move: I said I felt like a teenager with all her games and that we should sleep or she should go home if she wanted to. The straight-faced talk did the job and she said she wanted to have a shower and then we could sleep.

She used the bathroom first, then I did too. In the dark with wet hair and warm skin, we hugged again. This time there was no hesitation. Underwear was peeled off and I went inside her from behind as I pulled her hair.

In the morning I opened my eyes to find myself alone in the bed. A scribbled note was on the bedside table:

“Thanks for yesterday’s adventure. I had a great day with you. It is good you are going today and I don’t know how to find you because then I won’t miss you too much. It was perfect as it was. I hope you understand xx”


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