The following is an excerpt from Bang Lithuania.

I had already decided never to go back to Europe in the winter again. The lack of sunlight and cold temperatures are bad enough, but even worse is that pussy is harder to find. Girls go out less at night and day game is all but eliminated unless you like hanging out at the mall.

It was already late January, the dead of winter, when I arrived in Kaunas from Estonia. I decided to tough it out a bit longer before heading to Ukraine in the spring. The mall would have to do.

My favorite opener during the day is asking a girl where a pet shop is. I’ve done it dozens of times and know how the conversation can play out for me to get a number. The opener goes off a lot more smoothly if there isn’t a pet store nearby because the girl is forced to stop and think of an answer. The biggest mall in Kaunas has three pet stores. It was almost comedy hour with how the approaches were going.

“Have you been to the pet store right here?” the girl would ask.

“Yeah, but they don’t have cats.”

“And the one upstairs?”

“They also don’t have cats.”

“How about the one down the hall? I know they have cats.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think they have cats.”

On my second day in the city, I approached a cute girl named Aista with pet store. She wanted to walk me to a pet store that I already knew had a black cat. I feigned surprise that they actually had this cat and she asked if I was going to buy it.

“Um, I don’t know about its color. I’m not a fan of black.”

“I think it’s a pretty cat. You should buy it!”

Was she drawing me out? I considered buying it just to call her bluff, but then told her maybe I wanted a hamster instead, which thankfully the store didn’t have.

My experience is that even if a girl knows my opener isn’t the truth, she still wants to see me again, assuming she likes me. It’s such an innocent “lie” that I’ve never had a girl use it against me. Aista eagerly gave me her number and we set up a date for Friday night.

When I first arrive in a country, I want to get my flag out of the way as quickly as possible, preferably in the first week. I use night game for that task, since a Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night mission is usually enough for me to bang. I don’t do dates from day game on those nights because of the usually longer length of time it takes to seal the deal, but I made an exception for Aista because winter was raging and I wasn’t sure if I could find fruitful nightlife. I felt that it was worth the risk.

On Friday night, the date got off to a slow start at an Irish pub. She didn’t talk at all, so I turned on my monologue and kept things going until she started opening up an hour later. I caught glimpses of her sexy body with huge titties that turned out to be uncommon among Lithuanian girls. Her long blonde hair draped across the sides of her chest. I wondered how far I could get with her that same night, especially after she told me she had just gotten out of a three-year relationship a couple weeks earlier.

I truthfully told her I was writing a travel book on Lithuania and she gave me a rundown on the culture and some popular venues, including a fun bar she said I had to visit called Republic. My nightlife reconnaissance was going well and by the second weekend I would know the best venues in the city.

“Am I the first American you’ve met?” I asked.

“Yes, you are. I’ve seen a couple other Americans around, but I never talked to them like I’m talking to you.”

“Well, I have to be extra nice so you’ll have a favorable impression of my country. I won’t act crazy or anything.”

She laughed and I knew the time was right for a venue change to a club where things could get more physical. I gave her the keys to the night by letting her pick the club. She chose one that was in the suburbs, so we had to take a taxi. The club was packed and I was the only foreigner there. The music was good, the vibe was good, and after I ordered a drink it didn’t take long for us to kiss.

I was surprised by her intimacy skills. She was only 22 but the way she kissed suggested a lot of experience. She knew how to pull back and how to bite with just the right pressure. My boner was operating at 100% power for much of the night as she rubbed against it through her wool dress. I felt like the king of the club and was pleased with my decision to give her a date on such an important night.

A couple hours after we got to the club (about four hours into the date), she stopped drinking, well short of the intoxication that would lead to bad decisions concerning sex with a relative stranger. Her kissing dropped in intensity as well. I couldn’t trace it to something I said, since we had barely talked in the club, so I chalked it up as a case of her realizing she was moving too fast and wanting to slow things down. She had just gotten out of a relationship, after all.

My experience had shown that not all Eastern European women wanted to fuck right away, so I wasn’t upset or surprised that I’d have to wait for another date. I was ready to close out the night to set the stage for a home dinner date the following week where I could seal the deal and get my Lithuanian flag.

We were both tired of dancing, so we sat in a booth. In case she did want to bang, I told her that just because I might invite her to my apartment later, or at any point in the future, it didn’t mean I was expecting sex. It was a line I had perfected in Poland which made girls more comfortable coming over, of course leading to sex.

“In America, it’s very common to have an afterparty,” I said.

“Okay,” Aista said. “I just don’t want to be entertainment that you only use for sex.”

“While I’m a single man and like sex, I like doing other things as well. We’re talking, drinking, and dancing, with no expectations. We’re just having a nice time.”


She seemed to like that answer, but ten minutes later she got really quiet and started messing with her phone, sending text messages. I ignored that and we sat for another fifteen minutes until I suggested we go to a different bar. My instinct told me that she’d politely decline and we’d take a cab back to the city center. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

“I think I’m going home,” she said.

“We can share a cab back to the center,” I suggested.

“Actually, my friend is going to pick me up.”

The music kept playing, but I felt as if it had stopped. I asked a question I already knew the answer to.

“Is your friend a guy?”

She paused for a second, then said, “Yes.”

I had spent hours with her, bought her drinks, paid for the long taxi ride, gave her my undivided attention, and the result of all that is that I had warmed her up to fuck another guy. While I didn’t have the expectation that she’d fuck me, I did have the expectation that she’d treat me with respect. That was a mistake.

My response was immediate. Within two seconds, I was out of my seat and walking away. She gave chase and grabbed my arm, but I snatched it away, not before she could yell, “Stupid man!”

There would be no negotiation or further conversation. I had been played, and even if she had said, “But I’ll fuck you next time we go out,” I would have told her to go to hell.

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. For fifteen minutes I moped around like a pathetic sack of shit at the bar. I felt humiliated. All I wanted to do was go home and lick my wounds. She only saw me as a wallet and a stooge, a foreigner who could show her a good time while some local dude got the pussy. I had gotten her buzzed and horny just for him.

I looked at the time. It was 3:00. The club was way past its peak. There was little hope, but even though I was down, I still tried. I did two half-ass approaches that went alright, but nothing came out of them. I walked out of the club, still in disbelief about the reversal I had just faced. Things had seemed to be going so well. Why had she done me dirty like that? I thought only American women were capable of such harshness. She could have at least lied and said she wasn’t feeling well, or that a girlfriend was coming to get her.

A cab dropped me in front of my apartment. Then I remembered the bar she had told me about—Republic. It was just a block from my place. It was probably closed, but I decided to check it out, not to meet a girl but to see if it was worth going to on another night.

I went inside and was stunned to find that it was packed with more women than men. The bar had narrow walkways with people standing up. The music wasn’t too loud. Was I in a bar in America? The logistics were perfect, the first time I had encountered such an American-style venue in Eastern Europe. All that was missing were the fat American girls in flip-flops singing along to Bon Jovi. My mood immediately brightened. I ordered a drink and leaned against the bar. I couldn’t believe I had found a spot that was tailor-made for me.

In my first approach, the girl didn’t speak English, but her thick friend smiled and said, “Maybe I want to dance with you later.” It was a good sign. Tons of girls were staring at me, and there were no Spanish or Italian dudes in sight. There had to be a catch, I thought, but there was none.

My second approach was on a gorgeous blonde. She was a sweet girl who obviously loved practicing her English, but after some time it came out that she had a boyfriend. “I’m not the jealous type,” I said. She laughed.

I knew that talking to her wouldn’t lead to sex, but I wanted some companionship after the supreme diss I had faced not one hour earlier. The blonde made me feel good and I wanted to be with her. Our conversation was fun and I could tell she liked me, but the revelation that she lived with her boyfriend told me I absolutely wasn’t getting laid.

I thought of a night in Uruguay where I went out with two Brazilian girls, one younger and another much older. I wanted the younger one, but the older one wanted me. I decided to stick to my guns and go for the younger one, but at the end of the night I got neither. Then I thought of all the nights in Poland I wasted on girls with boyfriends after thinking that I could seduce them. I walked away empty-handed 95% of the time.

I looked at the blonde and realized that I’d be warming her up for sex with another guy, just like I had with Aista. Was that what I wanted to be to women, a fluffer? The blonde was the type of girl I could fall for, but I wasn’t put on this Earth to serve as validation for women or to make projects of them.

I saw a brunette looking at me while I talked to the blonde. She wasn’t as hot, but still cute. I could tell she was DTF, looking around and barely paying attention to her homely friend. I told the blonde I’d be right back and approached the brunette by complimenting her fur-lined vest. She received it well and asked where I was from.

Her friend quickly left, leaving us to a one-on-one conversation. Later the blonde came and said goodbye to me as she walked out. I told the brunette to hold on so I could say goodbye to the blonde—and maybe even get her number—but my feet stopped after only two steps. As I watched her leave, nothing in my being told me to chase after her. I turned back to the brunette and apologized for the interruption.

It took about twenty minutes to kiss the brunette and another ten minutes to invite her to my apartment. Forty-five minutes from meet to bang, something I would have expected more in Iceland than Lithuania. The brunette’s body was not as good as Aista’s, but my dick couldn’t tell the difference. Her face wasn’t as good as the blonde’s, but again my dick couldn’t tell the difference. She fucked me good, and in the end that’s all that matters.

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